


In My Skin

by inaweoftheirvoices



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Friends to Lovers, Gender Dysphoria, Genderqueer Character, Other, Panic Attacks, Self-Acceptance, boys being dumb and insensitive, genderqueer!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 28,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inaweoftheirvoices/pseuds/inaweoftheirvoices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes him a while to build up the courage to actually type in the words, every single time, no matter how often he’s done it already, because Michael is embarrassing like that.</p><p>'Genderqueer'</p><p>There it is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asymmetric](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asymmetric/gifts).



> I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to Ace (asymmetric) for editing this thing, multiple times I may add, and for helping me with making it all fit together. I'd probably still be stuck somewhere around the 25k mark without you!  
> Also, HUGE thank you to Sara for helping me with some very embarrassing grammar mistakes (let's never mention the raw first draft of this again) and always motivating me to keep going!
> 
> I should add that there are some scenes in this that might be uncomfortable to read for people who suffer from panic attacks and/or have had rough experiences with coming out?? This fic deals with gender dysphoria and it gets pretty heavy from time to time so please be careful if you're sensitive to that kinda thing!!
> 
> ALSO I made a playlist for this fic which you can listen to [here, if you like](http://8tracks.com/technicallysam/in-my-skin)
> 
> Find me on tumblr to say hi if you wanna, [ technicallysam!](http://technicallysam.tumblr.com)

The whole thing starts off as a joke.

It’s one of those things that seem funny at 2 AM, when you’re lounging in some random hotel room (they’ve been in so many lately, Michael can’t even remember if it’s his or Luke’s – either way, they almost always end up sharing, so he supposes it doesn’t really matter) They’re still buzzing from the show, unable to sit still long enough to even get close to being sleepy. Michael doesn’t think this will ever get old, hopes it doesn’t. He loves the thrill of it, even if it means staying awake until the crack of dawn watching Calum dance to “Toxic” by Britney Spears in only his underwear.

Out of nowhere, Luke looks at them with a glint in his eyes, then reaches to the back pocket of his jeans and retrieves something extremely frilly and extremely pink.

“Oh my god, Luke,” Ashton groans at the same time Calum starts laughing uncontrollably.

Luke is holding what looks like a thong, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Dude, where did you even get that?”

He just shrugs casually. “Some girl threw it on stage.”

“Ergh!” Ashton wrinkles his nose. “And your first instinct was to take it? What if it's worn?”

“It's not worn!”

Calum lets out another bark of laughter from where he is currently half-heartedly grinding against the bedpost. “Are you serious? Of course it's used, that’s the whole point, you dumbass!”

“It’s clean!” Luke shouts, all while eyeing the panties nervously. Michael snorts.

“Why did you even pick it up in the first place?” he asks, purely to see Luke squirm.

Luke groans and chucks them somewhere behind him. “No reason, I thought it was funny. I just remembered I had it.”

“You’re weird,” Michael says lamely, more out of habit than anything else, but when he sees the look on Luke’s face he reels it back in. “It is funny, though. I remember you stole someone’s underwear once, Ashton.”

“I didn’t steal anything,” Ashton squawks. Calum chuckles and wraps himself around him, which makes Ashton squeal even louder. “Get off me, you naked bastard!”

“Mikey’s right, you have no room to talk,” Calum says with a laugh that only grows louder when the older boy shoves him to the floor.

Luke gives Michael a small smile while Ashton explains the situation once again. “It was dark and she just handed it to me, how was I supposed to know it was bloody underwear, for god’s sake –”

When the other two have left and Luke is in the shower, he catches himself staring at the bright pink piece of fabric in the corner. Michael doesn’t take it, but the thought does something to his belly that makes him nervous. Michael doesn’t dwell on it because that would mean he’s thinking about it, which he isn’t, like, at all. He is very much not thinking about it, and he scrolls through his twitter feed and replies to every single tweet he sees to prove it.

When he looks again in the morning, it’s gone. He guesses Luke got embarrassed and put it in the trash. Michael shoulders his bag and follows him down into the lobby and swallows the weird feeling in his stomach that feels suspiciously like disappointment.

****

It’s easy to forget about it for a few days. Their schedule is so hectic they barely have time to sit down and just breathe, let alone think about Serious Things – and, holy shit, when did this even become a Serious Thing? Mostly he just pushes it to the back of his mind when they’re performing or fucking around backstage or being ushered around from place to place, but it’s harder when he’s alone. It’s harder in general, lately, and Michael has no idea why. It used to be just another thing he kind-of-but-not-really worried about, like, is he going to pass his math test? Will bleached hair look good on him? How long until he loses all of his hair? Who is he?

And it’s like, everyone worries about that stuff, right? Especially seventeen year olds, especially seventeen year olds in bands that blow up unexpectedly, no matter how much they were wishing for it. Because it’s scary, even now, and Michael is sure everyone in his position would feel a little unsteady, a little unsure about themselves. That’s what he’s been telling himself for years now, though, and it still hasn’t changed. He still feels like something is off kilter, somehow. Like he can’t quite fill out his skin. _Growing pains_ , his mum called it once when Michael told her, and he laughed, but at the same time he knew that wasn’t it. It’s just too easy, and this doesn’t feel easy. Besides, he’s nineteen now, he stopped growing ages ago, and if anything, it’s gotten worse. He never talked to her about it again; he kind of just instinctively knew it would do him no good.

And now he’s here. It’s not that he isn’t happy. He’s fucking delirious! He’s recorded an album with John Feldman, he’s hung out with Fall Out Boy, just last week he got a prank call from Alex Gaskarth, for fuck’s sake, how could he not be happy?! So yeah, it really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter.

Except it does matter, and it doesn’t stop. It keeps coming back every once in a while; all it takes is a single comment and Michael feels disconnected for days. It’s taken him a long time to figure out why exactly he has always been so wrung out after certain interviews, or after going out with the others, to the point where he just started staying in whenever they asked. It’s the way they talk about other people, look at other people, talk about him, look at him. It’s worse when they’re all together and Michael finds himself looking down the line from Ashton to Calum to Luke to him. And it’s like – oh. He fits in here. Or at least it looks like he fits in here, for the most part. He’s always been the most feminine in the band, the most flamboyant in everything he does, and he knows people take note of that. Michael has seen whole tumblr posts dedicated to all the ways he’s more feminine than the others and it’s all good, it’s fine with him. It used to bother him, but it doesn’t any more. He knows they find it cute. They don’t mean it in a bad way. He knows that.

But when he’s sitting on a couch with the rest of the band and all he can think of is all the ways he looks the same and all the ways he is different, there is a very distinct feeling of _wrongness_ in his chest.

****

Michael dyes his hair pink. It seems like a fantastic idea all the way until he’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror ten minutes before bus call and feeling like his chest is going to cave in.

“Fuck,” he mutters. It’s so fucking pink. It’s _aggressively_ pink. And it’s not like he didn’t expect it to be, but he didn’t think it would look so much like…a statement.

All the excitement from earlier drains out of him at once. Oh god. Are people going to be able to tell what this means? He’s not even sure what it is that this means, he didn’t go into this with a plan, but now that it’s actually happening – A loud knock shocks him out of his thoughts and his hand shoots up to hide his hair, sending various shampoo and conditioner bottles flying to the floor in the process.

“Michael! We have to go!”

There’s no way he is going out like this. He stuffs the first beanie he sees on his head, grabs his bags, and opens the door to a very annoyed Ashton.

“Finally! Are you serious? We have a radio thing in – is your hair pink?”

“Yeah, so?” Michael snaps.

Ashton gapes slightly. “Nothing. Nothing, it’s just very…pink. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well,” Michael starts, and then doesn’t know what to do with that sentence. He pushes past Ashton towards the elevator, already feeling a blush rising up his throat. Ashton follows him without another word, but Michael can feel his eyes on him when he punches the ‘down’ button.

“Bad day?” he asks when the door closes after them. Michael grunts out something that could be interpreted as either yes or no and keeps his eyes on the door. By the time they reach the lobby, Ashton has given up on trying to talk to him, and part of Michael is disappointed. He wishes he would ask again, but at the same time has no fucking clue what he’d answer. Is it a bad day? It’s no different from yesterday, or the day before, but he feels unsteady; there’s a tug at his insides just below his belly button as if his body is actively telling him _this isn’t going away, dumbass, what are you going to do about it?_

He can still feel Ashton glancing at the exposed strand of hair peeking out from under his beanie. When Ashton looks away, Michael pulls the hat down to cover it.

The others are already waiting for them in the lobby, Luke spread out on an expensive looking chair and Calum leaning against a wall beside him.

“Fucking finally,” Calum cheers sarcastically when he spots them. Luke yiiiiieeeeeews feebly, eyes glued to his phone. Probably texting his mum, the loser. Calum hoists his bag onto one shoulder. “What on earth took you so long?”

“Had to wake up sleeping beauty here,” Ashton says with a wink in Michael’s direction. Michael glares.

“Bit too early, apparently,” Calum smirks. “I’m not even kidding, man, you look like shit. Have you slept at all?”

“Fuck off,” Michael drawls. “Like you look any better.”

“Excuse you, I look exceptional.”

He strikes a pose, hips popped to the side and a hand on his waist, and Luke stops texting to take a photo of him. Michael feels thin-skinned, and has to step away when Calum goes to do another pose against his side because the mere touch of their shoulders makes him uneasy. He covers it up by walking up to Ashton, who is already talking to their security guard about the plans for the day. The oldest boy has his business-face on, the one he always wears when he’s talking to Feldy about Adult Stuff, and he barely acknowledges Michael when he comes over.

He manages to keep his hair covered until lunch, when Calum steals the beanie from his head to annoy him and he and Luke just sit and stare for a moment.

“Holy shit,” is all Calum offers. Luke reaches over to touch it.

“It’s soft.”

“Of course it’s soft, it’s still the same hair, you idiot,” Michael snorts, grabbing the beanie out of Calum’s hand.

“It looks like cotton candy,” Luke says, as if Michael didn’t say anything.

None of them look disgusted.

****

“Michael has a new shirt that looks like this,” Ashton says while stretching out the collar of his shirt.

“It’s pretty flamboyant,” Luke says, and Ashton giggles.

“So flamboyant!”

“You’re fucking flamboyant,” Michael growls, his heart thumping in his chest. He can hear slurs being yelled inside of his head, like they’re carved into his brain. He’s been on edge all fucking day; he knew he shouldn’t have agreed to this stupid twitcam.

“Hey!” Ashton squawks, as always personally offended by other people swearing in his presence, and Michael can see him stare at the side of his head on the laptop screen. They move on quickly, but the comment stays with Michael for a lot longer than it probably should. He gets a very distinct sinking feeling somewhere in his guts whenever he remembers it, and honestly, it’s gotten to a point where even Michael can’t lie to himself anymore. Who is he trying to fool? It does matter.

The problem is, he isn’t sure what to do about it. How is he supposed to solve a problem he can’t even name? Michael knows, very distantly somewhere in the back of his mind, that he needs to tell someone, or else he is going to explode, but he keeps pushing it aside. It’s easy to do when you’re constantly busy with something, constantly on such a tight schedule it’s hard to tell how much of his discomfort comes from being stressed and how much comes from – this thing. And the longer he holds onto it, the more the lines of it seem to blur. It’s an odd feeling. It’s scary.

****

The first time it comes out is months later, and it’s more of an accident than anything else.

“I don’t think I’m a guy.”

It takes Calum a few seconds to register that he said something because it’s so completely out of context, and Michael can’t blame him. He doesn’t even know what brought it on. There was something on TV earlier, and then Ashton made some stupid joke that sparked something in the back of his mind that he didn’t manage to push back, apparently. And then Michael couldn’t decide on a character in the dumb video game Calum insisted on playing and Calum told him to “just take the dude, bro, what’s taking you so long?” and it was such a small irrelevant comment, but Michael actually felt sick for a moment.

By the time Calum turns to look at him, Michael has gone into a shocked freeze.

“What?” Calum says.

Michael coughs to buy time. He could probably still back out. He could say it was a joke and just move on. There’s still time. If he acts fast, he can still undo it. But the longer Michael waits, the bigger the lump in his throat gets. He feels Calum shift on the couch before pausing the game and suddenly it is way too quiet.

“What did you say?” Calum asks. It’s clear he knows something is off.

“I’m –” Michael breaks off as soon as he hears his own voice. It’s way too wobbly already, and it’s ridiculous. This is ridiculous, why is he doing this, he’s making this all so weird, why did he even say anything –

“Hey, Mikey,” Calum says softly and reaches out for him to pat his shoulder. The bro-ish gesture feels so out of place it almost makes Michael laugh. Almost. “Dude, you can talk to me.”

“I know.”

Calum instantly falls silent. Michael realizes with a start that his hands are shaking and he shoves them in his pockets. “I know, okay? I know, it’s not like…I’m just…”

He breaks off again because of course now there are fucking tears stinging in his eyes. This always fucking happens, Michael always cries, Michael cries at movies, Michael cries when he’s homesick, Michael cries when he’s sad, when he’s happy, when he’s mad. He rubs at his eyes with an angry flick of his hand and sits up straighter. He can tell that his face is burning bright red by now.

“Fuck,” he hisses under his breath. Beside him, Calum slowly puts his controller to the side and shuffles closer to him. He doesn’t say anything, just worms his way into Michael’s side, his head twisting until he can fit it into the crook of his neck so that when he lets out a breath, it tickles on Michael’s chest.

The silence feels vaguely heavy, like Calum is waiting for him to elaborate but doesn’t want to push. Michael takes a deep breath, then another one.

“I can’t right now,” is all he manages to get out, but Calum just nods like he gets it. As if it makes sense.

“That’s fine.” Calum waits a beat before adding: “I can help you bury the bodies.”

That does make Michael laugh, and if Calum hears the watery undertone, he doesn’t mention it. He doesn’t let go of him, either, just moves so it’s a proper hug and he can lay his head on Michael’s shoulder comfortably.

****

They don’t get a break for a few days, constantly being ushered from one radio thing to another interview to another one and so on and so on. They’ve officially reached the point where it stops being fun, but they’re going to start playing shows again soon and Michael reminds himself of that whenever he feels like screaming.

It’s not so bad, mostly, and Michael knows he shouldn’t be complaining. He’s doing what he loves, he’s living his dream, etc. etc. etc., and mostly it’s fun in between interviews, but some days it’s just bland. The same questions, every single time, which would be fine if it was about the music and not “What do you look for in a girl?” and shit like that. If Ashton pragmatically answers that particular question one more time, he is going to explode.

Calum hasn’t mentioned their conversation yet, but Michael can feel him watching him and it adds to everything. So he’s being even louder than usual, desperately trying to gloss things over.

“My celebrity crush is Leonardo DiCaprio,” he says one time, just to cut Ashton off. “And yes, before you ask, he is also what I look for in a partner.”

“I feel that.” Calum nods and then says with a knowing smirk on his face, “Although I’m more of a Will Smith type of guy, if I’m honest.”

As if on cue, Ashton groans and snatches the microphone out of his hands. “Let it go! We’ve mentioned Will Smith too many times in our careers! It’s enough!”

“He’s more into Matthew Mcconaughey,” Calum says to the interviewer. “Ashton is a Matthew girl.”

“A Mcconaugirl,” Luke chimes in and everyone in the room rolls their eyes, except Ashton because he can’t help but laugh at everything the younger boy says ever. Michael and Calum share a look over the others’ heads, both eyebrows raised.

“Matthew Mcconaughey, that’s a very adult choice,” the interviewer says to Ashton, a smirk on her face. The comment gets one of his trade mark giggles.

“What can I say, I’m a very adult person. A very…ad…adult – can you even use that as an adjective?”

He turns to Calum, who shrugs and picks at a loose strand on his sleeve. “Don’t look at me bro, you’re the one who finished high school.”

“Well, anyway, I’m the oldest so I’m very manly. A manly adult.”

“We’re just a very manly band, manly men who are into even manlier men,” Calum says and Ashton shoots him a look. “Well, some of us.”

“Oh yeah, we’re so manly. The manliest band in the world; none of us can kill a spider and Michael has pink hair,” Luke drawls dryly and – Michael knows it’s supposed to be self-deprecating, but he can already feel the smile slip off his face. Luke notices, and he reaches behind Calum to slap Michael’s shoulder playfully. “Oh, come on, I’m kidding. We all know you’re not girly, you’re punk rock.”

Of course, Calum takes this as his cue to pretend to head bang, and Luke to flex his non-existent arm muscles and growl. The interviewer laughs, but she seems to sense Michael is uncomfortable.

“Actually, I think having pink hair is incredibly manly; only the brave ones can dye their hair pink and not care what other people think,” she says with a kind smile.

“Exactly, man, no need to feel ashamed of it!” Calum adds, patting his back a few times. Firm, manly pats.

“Pink actually used to be a boy’s colour until the Second World War,” Ashton throws in and Luke side eyes him.

“How do you even know that?”

“The internet is your friend, Lukey boy.”

Michael groans and rolls his eyes. “It’s not funny anymore.”

“Woah, what’s with you, are you on your period?”

“Luke, that’s sexist.”

“Okay,” Michael interjects loudly, because if this goes on any longer he might just throw up. “How about we actually talk about the tour?”

The other three look at him like he’s grown a second head, and it’s like…Michael knows he’s acting weird – he’s usually the last person to let a joke go – but right now he actually, physically feels nauseous, and he could not care less if he’s being rude.

Ashton manages to catch himself the quickest and smiles at the interviewer. “You can tell we’re running on about three hours of sleep.”

The interviewer stutters through her last few questions, and thankfully none of them are directed at Michael, so he just zones out and fiddles with his wristbands for the remaining ten minutes. As soon as they wrap it up he excuses himself. He doesn’t wait for a response and he doesn’t look back until he’s out of the room.

Nobody comes after him. They’re probably still saying goodbye to the crew, which – shit, he’s being really fucking rude. He can’t remember ever storming out after an interview like that, not since Ashton gave them a twenty minute long speech about the importance of manners in the public eye (he definitely picked that up from watching Harry, but Michael will let him have it). Ashton is so going to yell at him later.

****

Ashton doesn’t yell, just frowns at him when he enters the dressing room. He looks a bit like Michael’s mum when he does that. “You wanna talk about what happened back there?”

“No,” Michael says immediately. “I mean, sorry.”

Ashton makes a vague noise. “For what?”

“For running out like that, it was rude.”

“It was.” He takes off his bandana and runs his hands through his hair. “Mind telling me what’s up? You’ve been weird lately.”

“I have?” Michael asks, but he’s just stalling. He knows he’s been weird. It was only a matter of time until someone noticed.

“Yeah, you’re avoiding questions, you’re moody, you’re running out of interviews, it’s not like you.”

Ashton doesn’t say that he’s worried but it’s implied, and Michael feels terrible for pushing him away like this – all of them, really, but Ashton especially, since he knows Luke and Calum take it better. When he snaps at Luke, he just snaps right back. It’s almost second nature to them to tear at each other and then act like nothing happened; they’ve done it for years before they became friends. And Calum, well, Calum knows Michael. They’ve been friends the longest out of all of them and he knows that sometimes Michael gets moody for no reason, and that all he needs to do is give him his space. Calum is good at giving people space, which is probably the reason they’re still friends after all this time.

Ashton isn’t good at giving people space; he believes in talking things through and solving problems together. It’s just the way he deals with conflict. He’s never been good at letting things go, especially not when it concerns one of his band mates. They talked about it once, back when they were new to this whole touring thing, cuddled together in the back of their bus at the start of the Take Me Home tour and braver in the dark than they were in daylight. Ashton told him about his siblings, and about always carrying a sense of responsibility with him and projecting that on his boys, too. Those were his words, ‘my boys’, and it made Michael’s stomach flip with affection. It still does.

“I don’t know, I guess I’m just exhausted. You know how it is.”

Ashton does not look convinced, and Michael honestly can’t blame him. He doesn’t even sound like himself right now.

“Well, we’re all exhausted. Doesn’t mean we run out after interviews.”

“I know. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

And Michael means it, he really does, but Ashton does not seem ready to let it go. Just as he’s opening his mouth, the rest of their band barges in. They’re laughing, Calum hanging across Luke’s gigantic shoulders, but they falter a bit when they spot Michael and he feels like shit all over again.

“Hey, you good?” Luke asks, still smiling but nervously glancing to Ashton. Michael forces himself to smile back.

“Yeah, fine. I’m, uh, sorry about earlier.”

“Nah, it’s okay. It was a dumb joke,” Luke says, clearly relieved there’s not going to be a fight. He lets the squirming boy on his back down.

“We told them you had to leave because of your explosive diarrhoea,” Calum says once he’s standing on his own feet again. He flops down on the couch next to Ashton. “They said it’s fine, but you have to clean up after yourself.”

Michael laughs half-heartedly, but Ashton just grumbles. “Hilarious.”

“We didn’t actually tell them that, we told them he wasn’t feeling well,” Calum says with an eye roll. “Relax, dad.”

Ashton glares at him and Michael breathes out, knowing he’s off the hook for now.

****

It’s not that he’s hiding anything, he reminds himself when they’re on the bus, because he isn’t. He isn’t even sure what it is he would be hiding yet, so how can it be a secret if he doesn’t even know what the secret is? It can’t be, so it’s fine. He’s fine. He’s not hiding anything from anyone. Which is why when he curls up in his bunk at eight in the evening, it doesn’t mean he’s hiding. He’s just…conserving energy.

They were planning on going out tonight, but Michael feels sore, like his skin is bruised all over, like all it will take is a gasp of wind and he’ll collapse. So he doesn’t answer when Luke calls for him, feeling petty and vaguely angry, and texts them _I’m staying in_ , then puts his phone on silent. It’s fine. He’s not going to wait until one of them answers. It’s _fine_.

****

He’s awoken by the curtain of his bunk sliding open, and then there’s a warm body climbing in behind him, just hovering for a moment. Even with his eyes still closed and through the last layers of sleep he can tell it’s Calum, purely because of the gentle hand on his waist.

“Mikey,” Calum whispers, “you awake?”

He hums back and apparently it’s answer enough. Calum closes the curtain and plasters himself across Michael’s back. He places his hand on Michael’s waist and Michael reaches for it almost subconsciously to pull him in even more, not awake enough to think past his need to be close. There’s a chuckle, puffs of warm breath against his neck, and it sends a shiver down his spine.

“Good?”

Michael smiles. “Yup,” he murmurs back dreamily, which makes Calum laugh again.

“No, I mean – are we good? You were weird today.”

For a few moments Michael contemplates if he could get away with just saying nothing and falling back asleep, but he knows that train has left the station. He sighs heavily.

“Just a bad day. Wasn’t feeling right.”

“Why?”

“Dunno.”

There’s a stretch of silence that seems to fill up every space that’s left in Michael’s head, and he knows it’s coming. It should be terrifying, probably, but it feels like he’s been waiting for this all day, maybe even longer than that. Maybe he’s been waiting ever since he knew it himself. He’s nervous, but Michael finds that he isn’t scared, just suddenly very, very alert.

“It’s about the hair, isn’t it,” Calum says finally, and it’s phrased like a question but it doesn’t sound like one. He’s giving him the chance to say something, but making sure he can back out if he doesn’t want to.

“I don’t like it when you guys joke about…that stuff.”

“The hair?”

“No, not just the hair, I don’t like it when you – all that stuff about being, like, manly and stuff. I just...”

He swallows, hard. Calum isn’t saying anything, but he hasn’t moved away yet, not that he could, with the way Michael is clinging to his arm. The hairs on the nape of his neck are standing up where Calum is still breathing down on him. “I just don’t like it. It’s not funny.”

There’s something rising up Michael’s throat; it might be a laugh, but he’s not completely sure it’s not his lunch, so he forces it down and squeezes Calum’s wrist harder. “You still like me, right?”

“What – Michael!”

He’s moving away, but before Michael even has time to panic Calum turns him over so they’re looking at each other in the dim light.

“Have you gone bananas? Of course I still like you!”

Michael just nods, because he has a hard time formulating sentences when his heart is so loud it nearly drowns out Calum’s voice. All he can focus on is the way Calum is staring at him. Calum’s eyes are wide and intense and Michael can’t look away. He’s still waiting for the punchline.

“Why wouldn’t I still like you?”

“Because –!”

Calum places his hand firmly on Michael’s where it’s squished between them. “Listen, no matter what, I’ll always like you! You know I don’t care about – I mean you _know_ I’m bi, right?”

“’Course.”

“So why would I care?”

Michael closes his eyes. “It’s not that, though,” he mutters, and it’s quiet for a moment.

“Okay, well, then it isn’t the same thing, it doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, you can trust me. You’ll always be my best friend, my _brother_. Okay?”

This time, Michael does laugh, and even to his own ears it sounds hysterical.

“Okay?” Calum repeats, and there’s so much light in his eyes when he looks at him, like he sees something Michael doesn’t quite believe is there. He doesn’t think he could ever bear seeing that spark fade, so he nods, and that’s it, the window has closed. He lies awake until much later, cooped up with Calum in his tiny bunk and feeling overheated and nauseous.

It’s no use. Even if he managed to put what he’s feeling into words, it would be no fucking use. He’d tell Calum, and then what? It wouldn’t solve anything. Michael has seen the videos, and the blogs, he’s watched and read everything he could get his hands on, he knows this isn’t going away. This isn’t a thing that just fades, no matter how many times he dyes his hair pink or blue or green or every single colour of the fucking rainbow. None of that shit helps for longer than a few weeks.

At some point, Michael notices the even breathing behind him, and then his own. It hits him like a sledgehammer. For the few minutes it takes Calum to wake up, Michael lies as still as a statue, a layer of sweat prickling on his face, his chest feels so tight it’s hard to breathe and through the violent punch of his heartbeat he gets this sudden thought: _This is a panic attack._

He is going to have an actual, honest to god panic attack, and he is the only one awake. This has only happened twice before, and both of those times his mum was there to pull him out of it. This time he’s alone.

Michael can’t breathe. He’s gasping helplessly by the time the boy behind him stirs, making loud, dramatic noises he knows he’ll be embarrassed about afterwards, but his limbs are tied down, the muscles clenching too hard to move even an inch. Within seconds, Calum notices something is wrong. He pulls at Michael’s shoulder to see his face, and the look of pure horror he gives him is enough to make Michael’s breathing speed up even more. He paws at Calum’s arm and torso, desperately trying to get him to move, to get him out of the tiny space surrounding them, to get him out of this, but Calum just stares for a few moments before shaking himself out of it.

“Fuck,” Calum hisses, and scrambles to get out of the bunk. “Ash! Ashton! Help me! Get up!”

There’s a lot of rustling and shouting, then a rough looking Ashton is blocking his view out of the bunk. “Okay. Okay. Shit. Okay. Michael.” He cranes his neck so they’re eye to eye, his arm reaching in but not quite touching him. “Look at me, okay?”

Michael wants to scream _I’m already looking at you_ , but the only thing that comes out is a strangled sob.

“I’m going to touch your arm now, alright? Okay, good. Listen. Can you focus on my breathing? Can you do that? Breathe with me, okay? It’s gonna be okay. In…” he takes a deep breath, “out…in…good, you’re doing so well, Mikey. It’s gonna be okay…I’m here. I’m right here…Keep breathing…”

Ashton keeps it up for at least ten minutes, talking very gently and slowly until Michael manages to slow down his breathing, the rush in his head getting quieter.

“I’m getting you out of here now, okay?”

He nods and lets Ashton pull him to the edge of the mattress. Calum helps him get Michael upright, a hand on his waist and the other gripping his arm, like he’s afraid he’ll collapse if he lets go. Which probably isn’t that far off; his legs feel like jelly.

“Come here, sit down,” Ashton says quietly, and the two of them direct Michael down onto the bunk on the bottom. He feels less restricted all of a sudden, now that the world isn’t turned sideways. Ashton crouches down next to him, still holding his arm. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” Michael replies. His voice is scratchy, as if he’s been screaming for hours. He chuckles a bit even though nothing is funny.

“But better?”

“I guess.”

Ashton nods. Calum sits down on the opposite bunk, elbows on his knees and chin perched up on his hands, deep lines between his brows. Luke is there, too, standing next to him. Michael has no idea where he even came from, but his face is ashen, so it’s clear he’s been awake long enough to see all of it. Michael feels bad then, but he doesn’t know how to communicate that, nor does he have the energy to actually open his mouth to say something, so he lets his eyes slip closed and blocks the others out. Breathing still hurts, but it’s a vague pain now, less sharp than before.

They stay with him until someone’s phone goes off; probably Ashton’s, judging by the shrill ringtone. “I’m gonna –” Ashton mutters nonsensically. He gets up to put it on silent, and it’s like some kind of spell is broken.

“You okay?” Luke asks, his eyes huge and a shocking blue.

Michael nods. “Sorry you had to see that.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Ashton says and sits next to him again, a stern look on his face. “It’s not like you could help it.”

Calum doesn’t say anything, just stares at him over his fingertips. From what Michael can see of his face, he looks completely shell-shocked. Michael has to look away, he can't deal with the guilt of knowing he's responsible for it.

“Has this happened to you before?” Ashton asks very gently.

“Just a few times, ages ago. It hardly ever happens,” Michael says. “It’s not a big deal.”

Ashton is unimpressed. “If it happens again, you have to –”

“I’ll tell you,” Michael cuts him off. “Can we just… not talk about this?”

Ashton stares blankly for a moment, then his eyes harden. “You – do you even – No, we have to talk about this! You just scared the living shit out of us, you can’t just shrug it off like it was nothing!”

“Ashton –”

“And drink your water! Goddammit, Michael! You’re dehydrated,” Ashton snaps and thrusts a cup at him that he seemingly pulled out of thin air.

Michael snorts, more out of habit than malice, but downs the water in one go. As soon as he’s done, Ashton takes the cup from him again. “I’m going to refill it and I want you to drink it. Your body needs water.”

“Whatever,” Michael sighs out, eyes already closing again. He can’t remember ever feeling this tired before. Ashton is back with the water in seconds and watches as Michael drinks.

“What brought this on?” Ashton asks.

“I don’t know. I fell asleep and then I woke up and it just happened.”

“It just…happened.”

Michael forces his eyes open to see Ashton stare at him, a blank expression on his face. “Yes,” Michael says, “it just happened.”

Ashton holds the stare a bit longer before turning to Calum. “You were awake before me, did anything happen?”

“I’m right here!” Michael protests, but they ignore him. Calum is silent for a second, then his eyes flicker to him.

“I don’t think so,” he says in a small voice.

****

Michael feels too big for his body sometimes, especially after what happened, when he’s sitting on the edge of his bunk in the morning and the others are rushing to get ready around him, occasionally throwing him a concerned look. Michael just tells them to fuck off, because how is he supposed to explain that it’s like he physically can’t move, like something is pulling his limbs down and out of his reach where he can’t make them cooperate. He stands in the shower for ages, just staring down at himself trying to find the exact spot this feeling is coming from, but there’s nothing. It’s just always there, like some kind of dull headache. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time, not since he found out what it meant. It’s fucking terrifying.

Michael googles it late at night when he’s lying awake in an empty hotel room or on the bus with the soft snores of the others as background music. He isn’t sure why he does it, because it never leaves him feeling better or less scared, but it’s almost like he has to remind himself of it again, that there is a word for it. For him.

It takes him a while to build up the courage to actually type in the words, every single time, no matter how often he’s done it already, because Michael is embarrassing like that.

'Genderqueer'

There it is.


	2. Chapter 2

He probably should have seen it coming. It was only a matter of time until he snapped, because guess what? Michael has never been good at keeping secrets, least of all his own. The day it happens, Michael decides that while he loves touring, loves it with everything he has, he also hates touring. And his band, too, he hates his fucking band. He loves them, but he hates them.

They’re backstage at another venue in another city; the others are just jumping around like usual but Michael feels like his skin is going to crack any second now, every movement rubbing his clothes against it the wrong way. His head is pounding, even though he hasn’t touched a single beer in weeks (well, one and a half, but still), and there’s a screeching noise in his ears every time any of the others raise their voices. It’s one of those days.

“Hey, Michael, catch!”

He doesn’t even have time to turn his head away before something hits him square in the face. It’s a pillow, judging by the feel of it, so it doesn’t hurt, but to Michael it’s the last straw. He lashes out to get it off him, sending his phone flying in the process.

“Would you _fuck off!_ ”

“I told you to catch!” Luke yells back, and all three of them break into laughter. Fucking menaces. Michael hates them all. He gets up to get his phone, which has slid under the coffee table, because of course it has, and does his best to shut out the hyenas laughing in the background.

“Guys, guys, leave him,” Ashton says.

“Must be the hair, he’s probably producing much more estrogen now,” Luke says, and Michael freezes up instantly, every single muscle clenching up. He barely notices Ashton coming up behind him.

“Did your phone crack?”

“Fuck off,” Michael snaps when Ashton goes to touch his arm. He lets himself fall back onto the couch. His head is ringing.

“It was just a joke, Mikey.”

“Just fucking leave it!”

“Stop yelling!” Ashton yells. He’s only half serious, but Michael can see Calum sit up straighter like he’s sensing the change in mood.

“Good god, Michael, who pissed in your cornflakes today?” Luke says it like a joke, but Michael isn’t laughing. “We all know your hair doesn’t make you less manly, relax!”

“Yeah, no, listen – could you stop – just stop doing that!”

“Doing what?”

“Calling me that!”

“What, your name?”

“No! Stop fucking calling me ‘manly’!”

Luke blinks once, twice, and suddenly Michael doesn’t know what to do with his hands.

“But you are!” Ashton says.

“Yeah, don’t put yourself down like that, just ‘cause you got pink hair doesn’t make you less of a man. Believe in yourself, Michael,” Luke says dramatically, and the two of them have a little giggle, and Michael can tell it’s gonna be one of those jokes that will keep coming back until it’s no longer funny anymore and then for months after that. His stomach lurches.

“No, really, listen. Listen!”

But they’re not listening, the dickheads, Luke is imitating the interviewer from their last radio thing and Ashton, as always, is indulging him.

“Guys,” Calum huffs out, and when they don’t react, he yells it: “Guys!”

They stop then, and Michael is so, so glad Calum is there with him, because it feels like his tongue is glued to the top of his mouth.

“This is serious talk right now! Sit down, Luke, for fuck’s sake! Sit your ass down! Listen to what Michael has to say!”

Oh god. This is happening. Michael squirms further into his seat and clasps his hands together in a desperate attempt to stop them from shaking.

“Okay,” he says once Ashton and Luke have sat down and are looking at him slightly confused. “Alright. Uhm –“

And that’s it. Everything Michael’s rehearsed is gone. He looks at Calum for help, but all he gets is a reassuring nod and a smile, which absolutely does not help. Michael takes a deep breath. He’s in it for good now; there’s no turning back.

“Okay, so. The thing is…I think you should know that, uhm…I’m not, I, uhm, I don’t – I don’t think I’m a guy.”

Ashton’s mouth hangs open for a second, then he giggles. “Okay, sure man, you wanna wear a dress on stage next time, you should’ve just asked!”

Luke joins in half-heartedly, but Michael can see the gears in his head working as he studies him.

Michael considers laughing along, just like he’s done so many times before, suddenly hit with how easy it would be to brush it off and call the whole thing off – but then he steals a glance at Calum and his face looks like it’s made of stone. He’s not one to play pretend. Now that Calum knows about this, there is no way he can keep stalling, at least not for long. Even Ashton is going to notice that something is off with the way Calum is staring holes into his forehead. Might as well get it over with. He forces himself to stay still and wait until Ashton and Luke catch on.

Ashton glances from Michael to Calum, who is staring him down, to Luke, who is completely expressionless, then back to Michael, who has no idea what his face is doing. “What?”

When nobody answers, his eyes widen. “Wha – no. No way,” he breathes out. “You’re serious?”

It feels like a physical punch to the guts.

“Wow,” Calum says flatly, “great, Ash. Fantastic.”

“What?” Ashton splutters. “Wait, you knew about this?”

“ _That's_ what you’re focusing on?”

“Am I the only one who didn’t know about this?” Ashton says hotly and turns to Luke to glare at him. Luke shrugs.

“Don’t look at me, I have no idea what he’s talking about,” he says, and Michael tries not to take to heart how bored he sounds. This is Luke, he reminds himself. Luke has never been fond of conflict, tends to evade it as much as possible, Michael knows that, and he’s never taken it personally before. But this is different.

“No need to be an asshole about this,” Calum sneers and places a soothing hand on Michael’s thigh. “He didn’t mean to tell me, it just happened.”

Ashton looks affronted, as always when somebody talks back at him, but also slightly guilty. He puts his hands up in defence. “Okay. Okay, listen, I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying here. When you say you don’t think you’re a guy…” He trails off, looking desperate for someone to jump in and help him out. “– what exactly…I mean, what do you mean?”

Michael can feel the grip on his thigh tighten, and he knows he should say something. This is about him, after all, but all he can do is look at Luke, who is still staring at him, his face completely unreadable.

“I, uhm.”

He tears his eyes off Luke to look over at Ashton.

“I don’t feel like a guy,” Michael repeats weakly. He doesn’t know why this is all he keeps going back to. He had this whole speech planned, but suddenly it feels dumb saying it out loud. “I just – I dunno, I – I just noticed, lately, that…I don’t really identify with…that.”

Michael holds back a wince. He’s babbling. It’s so obvious that they have no idea what he’s getting at, and he’s completely fucking himself over right now. This is going absolutely nowhere. He turns to Calum, hoping he’ll help him get out of this, but all he gets is another coaxing nod.

“With what exactly?” Ashton asks.

“With being…male. I just – it just doesn’t feel like me, and it’s weird being called that when I know – I mean I’ve felt like this for ages now and I didn’t know why and then I read about it and it all makes so much sense now, like…It kind of just…I’m not…I mean people have this fixed image of me and it’s just not who I am and it’s frustrating and I just wanted to tell you guys because I don’t really – I’d like to not be seen as that or be called that.”

He has to stop because he’s running short on breath. As soon as he does, Ashton interrupts him. “Okay, wait, wait, wait. You know that’s normal, right? Everybody always has a fixed image of you in their head, that’s nothing out of the ordinary. That’s something that comes with this.”

He gestures vaguely at all of them and Michael realizes that he means the band.

“That’s not – that’s not what I mean. It’s not that I’m annoyed people think I’m different than I really am, I’m just…I mean, technically, yeah, but it’s different. I’m not a – I’m just not. A guy.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, but he obviously still doesn’t understand. “Okay, so…you think you’re not a guy?”

Michael nods.

“Does that make you a girl then?”

He’s thrown off for a moment, but Ashton doesn’t seem like he’s making fun of him, so he shakes his head slowly. “No. No, I don’t think so. I mean…it’s hard to say, to be honest.”

Ashton frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Some days it’s different. But mostly, no. I don’t think so. I’m not one hundred percent sure, all I know is I’m not a guy. And…yeah. That’s it.”

Michael has to pause to take a deep breath after that to slow down his heartbeat. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud like this, in front of people. It sounds big, it sounds like he means it.

Ashton is nodding absentmindedly, obviously trying to compute the information, but that’s not what Michael is worried about right now. He’s looking at Luke, who still isn’t doing anything. Michael is pretty sure he hasn’t even moved since Calum sat them down.

Ashton clears his throat again. “Alright. I mean, if…it’s fine if you…some dudes like to wear dresses, like, that’s fine, you’re still the same dude, you know, that’s totally – ”

He’s interrupted by Calum making an annoyed sound and reaching across to punch his shoulder, hard. “Ashton!”

“What?” Ashton cries, looking betrayed.

“He just told you he’s not a dude!”

“Okay, sorry! Sorry!”

And he does look like he’s sorry, as soon as it dawns on him. His eyes flicker to Michael again, checking if he’s angry, but he isn’t, honestly. Just fucking exhausted.

“What do you want to be called, then?” Ashton asks.

“I don’t really know,” Michael admits. “Just my name for now, maybe?”

Ashton nods firmly. “Okay, that’s fine, I mean. Whatever makes you happy, like…”

He looks over to Luke and nudges him. Luke shrugs and says “Yeah, fine,” and that’s it. It’s done.

****

They have to play a show that night, of course they do, and Michael wants to slap himself. He can’t believe he didn’t think of it before he told them. Luke stays away the whole time, and the fans notice. They’re not stupid. Usually Luke comes over at least once to sing into Michael’s mike, or just to annoy him, but today he barely even acknowledges him.

Michael is determined not to let it show; he knows the fans paid money to see them perform and it wouldn’t be fair to let them down because he isn’t feeling up to it. So he puts on a brave face – smiles at the right moments, claps, laughs at the others’ jokes – because he honestly cannot bear any more humiliation today.

They’ve made it halfway through the set when Ashton yells “Alright!”

Michael turns around to look at him. He doesn’t look strained at all, just sweaty and flushed like he always does on stage, but he knows Ashton can feel the tension just like everyone else in the room.

Ashton pushes his hair out of his face and puts one arm up. “How are we feeling tonight?”

The screams pick up again and Michael lets his gaze wander across the stage, turning his head off for a bit. Calum is frowning at him from the other side, as if to ask ‘you okay?’ to which Michael nods curtly and pretends to tune his guitar so he doesn’t have to look at Luke.

He feels hollowed out.

****

They clear the stage and get back on the bus in silence. Calum tells Ashton to move so he can sit next to Michael, but apart from that nobody says a word. There is a very familiar burning behind Michael’s eyes and he squeezes them shut to keep it at bay. This is ridiculous. He is not going to cry like a baby just because his friends won’t talk to him. Not with the others here. Not on the fucking bus.

He flinches when he feels a hand on his thigh and then Calum murmurs to him: “Do you want me to talk to them?”

Michael glances up at the other two in the seats before them. Ashton has his huge headphones on which means he wants his space, and Luke is most probably listening to music, too. He always does after a bad show, and this was a horrendous one. When he’s sure they can’t hear them, Michael turns to Calum, who’s still frowning at him. “Wouldn’t help.”

“You sure?”

He nods and pointedly turns his head to look out of the window. After a few heartbeats, Calum’s hand falls from his leg.

“Should I…do you want me to sleep in your room tonight?”

Calum sounds so unsure it makes his heart hurt. Michael hates himself a little bit for making his best friend feel like this, like he has to walk on egg shells around him. It never should have fucking come to this. He should have waited for the right moment, even if that meant feeling like shit for a while, instead of just blurting it out like a complete idiot. He can’t remember why it seemed so urgent at the time. Right now he just wants it back like it was before, shitty or not, because at least it didn’t feel like this.

Michael’s chest feels tight again, and for a second he almost says what he’s thinking, which is _yes, please, don’t leave me_ , but he forces himself to shake his head. He can’t load this on Calum, not this thing, and definitely not his feelings. He can’t use him like that. There’s enough guilt swirling around in his stomach, he doesn’t need another reason to feel like a fuck up.

“No, you don’t have to. I’m knackered anyway.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Michael presses his fingers into his eyes so hard he sees stars and tries to ignore the crack in Calum’s voice.

****

Calum doesn’t ask again, and he doesn’t come to his room for the next few nights. It’s technically not out of the ordinary, as they hardly ever share rooms, but there’s something about the way he holds himself around Michael that feels different. He sits up straighter when Michael flops down on the couch next to him, he avoids touching him, and when he does he smiles shyly, almost politely, like he isn’t sure if it’s allowed any more. And the thing is, Michael can tell Calum is genuinely trying, always making sure he’s involved in every single conversation, almost as if he’s trying to force them back into normalcy.

After three days of this, Michael wants to scream. Calum has turned into a second Ashton, treating him like he’s made of fucking glass, as if Ashton wronged him somehow and doesn’t know how to apologize, or Luke, who – no, he doesn’t want to think about Luke, about how he doesn’t even fucking talk to him anymore, as if they’re back in year 9 again, as if the last four years never even fucking happened.

He doesn’t know what to do. He knows he got into this himself, so it’s not like he can blame any of them for not knowing how to act around him, but he can’t help but be angry. He rushes off the bus without looking back after a particularly bad show and closes the door of his hotel room behind himself. He’s fucking furious. None of this is his fault. He digs the palms of his hands into his eyes and repeats it in his head, again and again. This isn’t his fault, he didn’t choose this, it’s not his fault. It’s not. There is no fucking reason to feel guilty over any of this; he is allowed to tell people how he feels, they’re his friends, they’re his friends, they’re _his fucking friends_. They’re supposed to be okay about this. And Calum –

Michael has been trying his best to keep his shit to himself, but somehow he always manages to drag Calum down with him. No matter what he does, if he stays away or keeps him close, all it does is drive him further away from Calum.

With a start, Michael notices his breathing, and then there’s a very familiar feeling in his chest, like his lungs are caving in. He forces his legs to walk him over to the bed, where he slumps down onto the floor and leans against the frame. This cannot be happening again.

****

There’s a knock on his door at around 1 in the morning and Michael swears his heart drops all the way into his stomach. He only just managed to calm down an hour ago, and his body still feels like it doesn’t belong to him, somehow.

The only people who know his room number are their bodyguards and – well, the boys, so there really aren’t many possibilities as to who it could be. For a moment he considers just not answering the door, pretending he’s already asleep, dealing with this on his own and never talking about any of this again, ever. But there’s a tiny flicker of hope that it might be Calum, so he gets up and opens the door.

It’s not Calum. It’s Ashton, and he’s smiling hesitantly. “I come in peace,” he offers and giggles a bit, but it dies off when Michael just stares blankly. “Okay, not funny. Can I come in?”

Michael steps aside and lets him squeeze by before closing the door again. Ashton gingerly sits down on the edge of the bed and clasps his hands together.

“Sorry, it’s late. Were you sleeping?”

Michael gestures down to the shirt and jeans he still hasn’t changed out of. “What does it look like?”

“Right.”

They’re silent for a bit, long enough for it to become awkward, until Michael crosses his arms and huffs, “Did you want something?”

Ashton clears his throat. “Yeah, uhm. I wanted to talk to you about the whole – thing. I feel like we need to talk about it. And I don’t like seeing you sad, to be honest.”

It seems like a bit of an afterthought, but it’s the thought that counts, so Michael smiles a little anyway.

“You look…” Ashton breaks off, his eyes searching. “…tired.”

Michael laughs, can’t help it.

“Your hands are shaking, Michael.”

He looks down, and – shit, Ashton is right. He stuffs them into his pockets and glares at Ashton, whose expression slowly changes from concern to realization. “Did you have another panic attack?”

“No,” Michael huffs out, already shaking his head even before Ashton has finished his sentence. “It wasn’t that bad, it was just…it wasn’t a good day, that’s all.”

Ashton’s eyebrows raise so far up they disappear under the stupid bandana he’s still wearing. “Not a good day, huh?”

He knows he should leave it, but Ashton’s tone rubs him the wrong way; it’s like electricity to his sore nerves. “Fucking hell, I’m fine!” Michael snaps.

“You have an interesting definition of fine.”

“God, could you just fucking leave it?”

“I can’t, actually.”

They stare each other down for a few seconds, until Ashton pats the space beside him on the bed, a wordless invitation. Michael takes it. As soon as he’s sitting close enough to Ashton to feel the warmth radiating off his body, he feels boneless, almost needy, all of his anger gone. He doesn’t say anything, but Ashton seems to sense what he needs and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“You don’t have to do that with me, Michael.”

“Whatever.”

Ashton sighs. “Okay. I just wanted to make sure you know that – no one is mad at you, or like, trying to make this weird. It’s just –”

Michael nods. “But it is weird, I know.”

“No, no, it’s not, it shouldn’t be. It just feels weird at the moment because we don’t really know what we’re dealing with here, I think, you know? I, uhm, I talked to Calum.”

When he sees Michael’s face, Ashton hurries to add: “Nothing bad, I just…he seemed to know more about this whole thing and I didn’t really know how to talk to you about it, and he…He basically told me to stop being a baby.”

Michael snorts.

“So, uhm, I read up on it a bit and I just wanted to ask some questions to make sure I get it right. I read something about, uhm. I – this isn’t, like, a sexuality thing, right? Because I read something about feminization, maybe that’s what –”

“It’s not a sex thing.”

Ashton opens and closes his mouth multiple times. “Shit. I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to…that came out wrong.”

Michael isn’t as mad as he could be; he kind of expected someone to ask something along the lines. But he isn’t exactly ecstatic about it either, so he doesn’t say anything.

“So you’re sure about what it is? I just thought, you didn’t sound sure when you told us, I thought maybe you wanted us to help you figure it out or something.”

“I don’t need help ‘figuring it out,’ the only reason I told you was so you’d stop calling me ‘dude’.”

Ashton nods shortly. “Yeah. Okay. Got it. So, the way you described it was –“

“I’m not a guy, but not a girl either.”

“Okay,” Ashton repeats, still nodding. “Okay.”

There’s another stretch of silence. Michael feels weirdly calm, like maybe he should be freaking out about this right now, but he isn’t. He’s just so, so tired. After a while, Ashton clears his throat again. “So...what would you describe yourself as?”

“I watched a video of someone who said they were, uhm, genderqueer. I think…maybe that.”

“Genderqueer.”

“Yes.” Michael takes a deep breath. “Genderqueer. Or maybe…I dunno, maybe...something else, I’m not sure.”

It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, he realizes with a start. He laughs shakily and brings a hand up to fix his hair. “Fuck.”

Ashton laughs quietly, and when Michael looks over he has a fond smile on his face. “How long have you been carrying this around with you, huh?”

“I don’t really know.” He thinks that maybe, he’s known for years. Somewhere deep down he’s always just – known. “A while, I guess.”

Ashton hums and they’re silent again. Michael can tell it’s kinda hard to hear this stuff, and he wants to do something to take the weight off Ashton, but he doesn’t know how. He feels pretty weighed down himself.

“I think you’ll have to remind us sometimes. We’ll probably mess up,” Ashton says after a while.

“I know, it’s fine.”

“Promise you’ll remind us, though, yeah?”

Michael smiles. “Yeah, sure. I’ll spray you with water.”

“Like cats,” Ashton says with a chuckle. “And if there’s, like, something else you need us to do, just say the word, okay? I don’t know how far you’ve come in your self-discovery or whatever, but if you want us to…use a different name or anything –”

Michael is already shaking his head before Ashton has even finished. He’s thought about it a lot, but the possibility of having to sit all of them down and tell them to use a different name or still makes him feel uneasy. If the boys started using a different name or even pronouns, people would notice. There'd be no way to hide it anymore. Michael doesn't think he's ready for that. “No. I mean, I’m not really 100 percent sure of anything yet. I don’t…”

“I’m not pressuring you into anything, but I want you to know that you could if you wanted.”

“That’s – thank you, but not for now. I just know I really, really don’t like being called a boy. And I don’t think I’m a girl, either. I’m just…” Michael trails off with a wince.

Ashton considers this for a moment, then he says: “You’re just you, that’s alright.”

He hugs him for a long time afterwards, awkwardly but determined, like he’s trying to prove a point, and Michael can’t even find it in him to be embarrassed about the way he’s clinging to Ashton. He needed this. “I’m sorry I’m stupid sometimes, I love you,” Ashton mumbles just before he lets go and shuffles away, flushed all the way down to his neck. Michael can’t help but tear up. He’s aware Ashton doesn’t fully understand yet, he doesn’t get it, but he’s trying. It’s a very Ashton thing to do, and it makes hope flutter in his chest.

They don’t mention Luke, but it hangs in the air between them when Ashton leaves. Michael lays awake for hours, strung way too tightly to relax.

  ****

It’s still weird. Everything is slightly off kilter after Michael’s halfway-coming out. None of them want to admit it, but they have to find a new way to be around each other now, no matter how much Michael wishes they didn’t. What he wants more than anything is for them to joke around like they always have, and they do, to a point, but not beyond that. It takes energy where it didn’t use to. Sometimes it’s like everything is finally going back to normal again, but then Ashton will make some kind of joke and then they’ll all look at Michael as if he’s going to go off on them, or one of them will call him “man” or “dude” and then either fall silent (Luke) or apologize profusely (Ashton) and refuse to let it go until Michael tells them to fuck off already because it’s okay, goddammit.

He doesn’t want to let it bother him, because he knows they still see him as – well, not their brother, hopefully, but something like that. But a very small, very vocal part of him is terrified things might change so much that they’ll eventually grow apart. He doesn’t want to be the reason things go to shit, not now that they’re finally where they’ve always wanted to be.

He tells Calum about it one night, when he’s sure Ashton and Luke are asleep and the bus is loud enough to drown out their conversation. Calum tells him to shut the fuck up.

“You know what they’re like,” he says with an audible eye roll. “Give them some time.”

Michael just grunts. He does know what they’re like. They did the exact same thing when Calum announced he liked guys as well as girls. Ashton hugged him afterwards to prove that it was Absolutely Not A Problem, and Luke nodded it off and then stopped cuddling him for a few weeks. When he was called out on it he stopped cuddling all of them, until Michael dragged him aside and threatened to punch him if he didn’t stop being an arse. Luke cried like a baby and spent the next twenty minutes apologizing to Calum, and that was that. The possibility of conflict has always brought out a really ugly side in Luke, and it’s not like he means anything by it, he just wants everything to be harmonic and he can’t deal with it when it’s not. Michael knows that, but it’s hard not to take it personally.

“It’s just…I don’t know, I mean I haven’t figured it out yet, either, you know?” Michael whines. It sounds pathetic. He feels pathetic. “I don’t know.”

“Nobody expects you to, you can take all the time you want, and if you need us, we’re here for you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” he mutters without thinking and immediately feels horrible. Even in the dark he can clearly see Calum’s face fall. “No, I mean, I know you are. You always are. I appreciate that, I really do.”

Calum takes some time to reply, and when he does, it’s hesitant. “Okay.”

God, Michael is such an asshole. He shuffles closer to the boy lying across from him, as much as he can in the cramped bunk, and nuzzles his face into his neck. Calum doesn’t reject him, but then again, he can never say no to a good cuddle.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Calum nods, his chin bumping into Michael’s head. “I’m not mad.”

They’re quiet for a little while, long enough for the guilt to fill Michael’s stomach like cement. The engine of the bus is loud enough that the silence doesn’t get awkward, but it does feel like something needs to be said. Just when he’s about to apologize again, Calum speaks, his voice coming out even quieter than before. “I want to help you, Mikey, but I don’t know how.”

Michael pulls back so he can look up at Calum, but he has his eyes closed, as if he can’t look at him as he says it.

“You’re already helping me, Calum.”

“I don’t know,” Calum replies, his eyes still closed, “It’s like…I know I get mad at the others, and I’ll beat them up if they hurt you, I swear I will, I’ll take on anyone who says anything. But…it’s…I don’t want you to be mad at me –”

“I won’t,” Michael says without hesitation.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay,” Calum whispers and takes a deep breath. “A few weeks ago I didn’t even know about this, I mean I didn’t know anything about this. You know? I had no idea there even was such a thing as…”

“Gender identity?”

“Yeah. I mean, I knew there were transgender people and stuff like that but I had no fucking idea people can identify as neither man nor woman. When you told me, it was kinda like…obviously it was like, I love you no matter what, that was a no brainer, but…it was weird. I kinda felt like I needed to treat you differently. I still do,” Calum admits, so quietly Michael nearly doesn’t catch it. “I feel like such a dick. I don’t want to make you feel like…like I don’t respect you or, like, find you weird, I would never – whatever you need me to do or change about myself, I’ll do it, I swear, whatever makes you happy, but…I guess what I’m saying here is that I can kind of see where the others are coming from. You know? I mean, I’ll still be on your side no matter what, and I’ll fucking punch them if they hurt you, but I’m…I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Michael croaks out.

“Hurting you. I don’t want to be a hypocrite. I don’t want to be weird about this.”

“Calum,” is all he says. He buries his face into the other’s neck again and squeezes his eyes shut. He feels so incredibly stupid: he should have thought of this before. “You’re not a hypocrite. I don’t even know everything, okay? I’m not expecting you to figure this out for me. I won’t get mad at you if you screw up, I promise. You’re already…you’ve taken this so much better than I could have ever hoped for. You're doing fine.”

“But you didn’t feel safe enough to tell me.”

And, shit, there's not much Michael can say to that. “Calum…”

“It’s true! You tried to tell me and I didn’t even listen –”

“You couldn’t have known.”

“I could have asked.”

Michael frowns. “You did, though.”

“Yeah, but – not enough.”

“Calum, that doesn’t even make sense.”

He laughs, but Calum doesn’t. “You kept it in for so long you had a panic attack over it,” he says lowly, like it takes effort to get the words out. “And I didn’t even notice.”

“What are you talking about? You noticed, you stayed in with me, didn’t you? You asked me what was wrong, and I didn’t tell you. That’s hardly your fault!”

Calum just sniffs, his shoulders jerking in what Michael thinks is a shrug.

“You couldn’t have known. I didn’t know anything about this a few months ago either, and even now it’s still a headfuck for me,” Michael adds.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what the fuck is happening half of the time. I didn’t know what it was before I read about it on the internet, okay, I had no idea. It’s fucking scary.”

“Scary?”

“Sometimes,” Michael admits and clears his throat. “It’s like…I look in the mirror and...it’s kind of like…I have this complete lack of…like, the way you look at an old photo of yourself and it doesn’t really look like you but you know that it’s you. That’s what it’s like. The way people see me doesn't match up with the way I see me. And it's just weird. I don't know how to work around that.”

Michael can hear the click in Calum’s throat when he swallows. “Do you always feel like that?”

“It comes and goes. It’s worse when people say stuff, like when they call me dude or make some stupid joke or whatever and it…it kind of shows how they see you and you try to fit into that image they have of you, because…I don’t know, it’s just easier, I guess. But it feels like...like I'm playing pretend. It's like playing dress-up.” He trails off, realizing he’s never told anyone about this. “I dunno. It’s weird.”

Calum squeezes him as if on instinct. “That sounds awful.”

Michael isn't sure if it does. It's difficult to look at it from an outside perspective. “I guess.”

“So is that…do you get, like, gender dysphoria?”

The question makes him stop short. “You know what gender dysphoria is?”

Another shrug. “I’ve kinda read up on it a bit.”

Calum says it with such nonchalance, like it’s nothing, when in reality Michael feels like his heart is growing ten times its usual size. He imagines Calum sitting in his hotel room after shows, frowning at his laptop as he’s reading through Wikipedia articles, trying to understand what exactly it is his best friend is feeling. He probably came across the exact same pages Michael waded through.

He can feel a huge grin spread across his face, completely unable to stop it even if he wanted to.

“Fuck, I love you.”

He blurts it out without really meaning to, and it’s not like he’s never said it before, because he and Calum have never had problems saying that they love each other, but somehow this feels different. It feels bigger. Michael presses his face into Calum’s neck again, with no intention of ever resurfacing, his cheeks already burning.

Calum is completely still for about three seconds – not that Michael is counting – before saying, so softly he only hears it because he’s so close: “Love you too, Mikey.”

****

It sort of becomes a habit after that, the two of them sharing a bunk, sometimes talking, sometimes not, and it makes everything else more bearable. It’s like an intense déjà vu of when they used to be in high school and had sleepovers five days a week, before they befriended Luke and started taking music seriously and their whole dynamic changed. It’s nice to be this close again. Michael didn’t even realize how much he missed it.

When his hair fades to a weird grey-ish colour, Calum helps Michael bleach it and decide on a colour. Something tells him Calum is trying to make up for all the jokes they made when it was pink, but either way, Michael isn’t going to complain.

“What about pink, wanna try pink again?” Calum says while they’re waiting until they can wash out the bleach, and Michael fights back a snort.

“Nah, I don’t think so. I kinda wanna go blond this time.”

“Blond? I mean, yeah. That works, too.”

Michael grins at him in the mirror and he could swear he sees a slight blush on Calum’s cheeks.

****

It doesn’t feel how Michael imagined coming out would feel like. There’s always that odd notion that something should be different, that it should feel like more, that he should feel lighter somehow, because that’s what everyone always says, isn’t it? That it takes a weight off your shoulders. As far as Michael can tell, there’s no weight missing. Mostly it’s just...different. It isn’t exactly good yet, but it’s better, he thinks. It feels like it could be good at some point, at least. Well, if it wasn’t for the fact that Luke isn’t talking to him.

Of course they’ve had fights before. There was that one time when they wouldn’t speak to each other for three weeks until Ashton forced them to sit down and talk it out. Within five minutes they had started being the bestest of friends again, and after that they never mentioned it again. That’s just how Luke and Michael work. This time, Michael doesn’t even know how to fix it because there wasn’t even a fight – Luke just decided to stop talking to Michael. The weird thing is that everything else is normal; Luke doesn’t seem angry or withdrawn, and when they’re all together he acts just like he always has, which is why it takes Michael so long to realize something is off. There’s no open hostility, so he’s able to ignore it for the most part, especially because he’s so close with Calum lately and it kind of makes everything else melt into the background.

He can’t remember the last time Calum chose him over Luke or Ashton, and it’s not like he’s been pining over it or been sad or anything, but it’s like…he was his best friend first. It just feels right. It feels like this has been missing from Michael’s life, as sappy as it sounds.

Calum comes up behind him before a show once, while Michael is attempting to put on eyeliner – which is really hard to do, it’s impossible to put on the right amount and make both sides even, and honestly, it’s 2014, Michael can’t believe nobody has invented an easier way to put on eyeliner yet.

“Fucking bullshit,” he mutters and rubs at his eyes for the third time that night, trying to get rid of the smudges everywhere.

Calum puts his head on Michael’s shoulder, his arms snaking around his waist. “What is it?”

“It just won’t look good,” he replies. Calum hums and turns his face into the crook of Michael’s neck to leave a dry kiss there, then lets go of him entirely.

“I think it looks fine,” he says as he’s walking away, and Michael spends the next two minutes trying to shake himself out of a daze.

****

“Alright, there’s one question I think your fans are very interested in,” the interviewer says with a smirk, and Michael is pretty sure he can feel every single person in the room roll their eyes. Or maybe that’s just him. They’ve been up since 6 AM and it’s just after 4 PM now, so everyone is a little tight-strung at this point. “Are you guys dating anybody?”

Michael doesn’t even bother to hide his yawn.

“Well, I’m not seeing anybody, but I can only speak for myself,” Calum starts, turning to the others.

“I’m single,” Luke starts to say but Michael speaks over him, “Ashton has four kids.”

They all turn to him in varying states of amusement, ranging from Calum nearly pissing himself to Ashton glaring over the rim of his grandpa glasses.

“Oh, does he now?” the interviewer says with a laugh.

“Yeah, he –” Calum breaks off because he’s laughing too hard to continue.

“Oh my god,” Ashton groans in the background, head in his hands. “Children, I’m telling you. I am surrounded by children.”

Luke, seeing that the interviewer actually finds it funny, adds eagerly, “yeah, they’re our babies. We’re raising them as a band.”

“Oh, so they’re adopted?”

Michael shakes his head solemnly. “No, I gave birth to them. All four of them.”

Calum is laughing so hard he’s shaking the couch by now, and even Ashton can’t help but join in. Luke, however, seems to falter, the smile slowly dripping off his face before he can hide it.

****

Ashton demands a night in later that day, “for banding. We need some band bonding.”

“I’d say we’re pretty bonded already,” Calum says from where he’s literally draped over Michael’s lap. The latter stays silent, because he has a feeling he knows what Ashton is trying to do here, and honestly, he kind of wants to know what will happen. Luke hasn’t said a single word to him since the interview, and it’s got to a point where Michael just wants to take his head and smash it against something, which isn’t exactly ideal considering they still have to play shows together. He hates playing gigs when he’s mad at someone in the band: it screws up the whole dynamic, and right now it’s all just because Luke can’t get his fucking act together.

Michael puts on a sugar sweet smile and says, “I think it’s a great idea. Movie night?”

“That’s the kind of enthusiasm I wanna see!” Ashton shouts and high-fives him.

****

Luke is sulking, and it’s so obvious it would be funny if it wasn’t absolutely infuriating. They’re all sitting on Ashton’s bed, Michael and Calum leaned against the headboard and the other two sprawled across the rest of the bed. Luke makes sure none of his limbs are touching Michael, and every time Michael reaches over to grab his beer Luke sinks into the mattress so there’s no chance he’ll bump into him. It hurts in a very sharp, specific way, like tiny shards of glass working their way through his chest every time Luke tenses because he can feel Michael move.

They are halfway through Braveheart when he decides that he is sick of it and he slaps his hand down on Luke’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he says, staring at Luke dead on. “What’s the matter, huh? Come on, say it! Say what you’re thinking!”

Luke blinks, uncomfortable now that he’s being addressed directly, and shoots a look at Calum, then back at Michael. “What do you want me to say?”

“Anything would be nice, to be honest!”

Luke just frowns and stares back, obviously pretending he doesn’t know what Michael is talking about.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Calum pipes up, his eyebrows furrowed together. He’s sat up straighter now, hands in fists on his thighs.

Luke leans back and huffs out a laugh that’s probably meant to be nonchalant but comes out a bit strangled and weird. “What's _your_ problem? I didn’t even do anything!”

“Exactly, man, you haven’t said a single word to Michael this whole time.”

Luke rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and bringing his legs up to his chest, trying to shut the rest of them out. “Didn’t know there was a script for how I’m supposed to talk to Michael.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Well, I don’t really know how to act right now, sorry!”

“Maybe don’t act like a fucking prick, for starters,” Calum bites back, and it stuns all of them into silence. The sounds coming from the TV are making it even worse, and Michael is glad when Ashton sits up and reaches over to shut it off.

“Alright, that’s it. No more beating around the bush. We are going to talk about this like adults, guys, right now,” Ashton says in his grown up-voice, and then, on second thought, adds “mates, I mean. As in band mates. Gender neutral.”

It shocks a laugh out of Michael, despite the suffocating tension. Ashton looks proud of himself.

“How about you just tell us what exactly it is that confuses you, Luke?”

“I don’t wanna do this,” the youngest boy mutters, refusing to look at any of them. “This isn’t group therapy, for fucks sake!”

“No, it isn’t, this is your band, Luke, the band that you’re a fucking part of, remember?” Ashton says, and it’s not the first time he’s chiding one of them, but Michael can’t remember the last time his target was Luke. Ever since their first band practice, Ashton has always looked out for him the most, has always treated him like he was the most vulnerable out of all of them. It’s odd to see him glare at Luke with such a frostiness. Luke has deflated in his seat, slouching even more than usual. Michael almost feels bad for him.

It takes Luke about five seconds to cave. He always loses when it comes to stare-offs. “He’s never said anything about this before! What am I supposed to say? I don’t even understand what the hell any of this means!”

“Alright, that’s understandable,” Ashton says, ignoring the noise of protest from Calum. “This is new to all of us, and it’s going to take some time to get used to it, but you can’t go around taking it out on people, especially not Michael.”

“I don’t understand how you’re all so calm about this! I don’t even know who he is anymore!”

There’s a distinct sinking feeling in Michael’s stomach. He regrets drinking that last beer. Even Ashton seems to falter a bit, looking from Michael to Luke to Calum and back again.

“It’s not a big deal,” Calum says flatly.

“How is this not a big deal? I mean…Should we call him a ‘she’ now, or? Is he a fucking girl now? How do we even know he’s not just playing some stupid prank on us?”

Michael can’t help it; he flinches violently and drops his head to stare at his lap. He knows it’s dumb. It wasn’t even meant to hurt him, he knows that. Luke wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t.

“Luke!” Calum hisses. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

For a few moments, nobody says anything and the silence is louder than any screaming crowd they have ever played to. Michael can’t look at any of them.

“I never said anything about pronouns.” He says it as evenly as he can, but he’s positive they can hear the way his voice is shaking. He knows – he knew he had to expect something like this, he knew they weren’t just going to nod and be fine with it, but all of his worst fears did not even remotely compare to the way it felt to actually hear this from one of his best friends. Michael has to swallow to get rid of all the spit in this mouth. He’s never sobered up so fast before. “Also, I’m still sitting right here.”

Luke doesn’t answer, and Michael is too scared to look up to see his reaction. He knows there is a great chance he’ll start crying as soon as he opens his mouth again, and after everything that’s happened – he doesn’t think he could bear the humiliation of crying in front of them. Not right now. He already feels painfully laid open, his skin so thin a fingernail could break through it. This is why they never have real fights; they’re just not good at it. Michael certainly isn’t.

“I’m tired, I’m going to bed,” he declares with a voice that seems to come from very, very far away and doesn’t sound like him in the slightest. They all stare at him when he gets up from the bed, even Calum, who catches himself quickly and rushes to follow him.

“Michael,” Ashton says weakly and reaches out for his sleeve, but Michael strides past him and leaves without looking back, Calum right behind him. There is a faint touch on his waist the whole way to his hotel room, as if Calum is scared of what might happen if he lets go of Michael. He doesn’t stop touching him when he nicks the key card from Michael’s back pocket to open the door, or when he follows him into the room and closes it behind them. Only when Michael shrugs him off and throws himself onto the bed, face first, does the touch disappear. He misses it immediately.

There is a moment where there is no sound coming from Calum, and Michael is so terrified he’s going to leave his heart actually physically aches, but then the bed is weighed down and two arms are worming their way around his body and holding him tight.

“Mikey,” is all Calum says, and it’s the nickname that breaks him. The first sob almost takes him by surprise, way too loud and raw in such a huge silent room, but he can’t do anything to stop it. Calum starts moving his hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him, but it only makes him cry harder. His whole body is wracked by convulsions, and all Michael can do is let it happen, like his body is cut off from him, a completely separate thing that he has no control over.

Calum mumbles something into Michael’s hair before he drops a light kiss there, and then another, and another on his shoulder. He doesn’t say any more, just keeps holding Michael until his head and his eyes and his throat and his everything hurt from crying, but it keeps going. It keeps going and going and going. After a while Michael is so spent it finally subsides and he’s so tired he physically can’t keep his eyes open. He distantly registers Calum prying the blanket from under his body and removing his shoes, and then he’s being wrapped up and he’s falling asleep with a faint ringing in his ears.


	3. Chapter 3

Calum is still there when he wakes up, a solid warm weight against his back. It feels safe and calming for a moment, until Michael shifts and becomes aware of the way his shirt is sticking to his torso. He is absolutely drenched in sweat. Michael sighs and flops back down, then cranes his head to look at Calum, who’s definitely still asleep, his mouth slack and his features soft. It’s adorable. He considers taking a picture of him and tweeting it, maybe sending it to Luke and Ash, when all of a sudden the events of the previous day flood over him.

“Fuck,” he croaks out and shit, his throat hurts. His head does, too. Everything hurts. He desperately needs a shower.

As carefully as he can, Michael lifts Calum’s arm from his waist, placing it so the other won’t wake up with a cramped shoulder, and gets up from the bed, wincing at the feeling of dried sweat on his skin. Calum remains fast asleep when he pulls the covers down, and Michael is not surprised to see that he still has his shoes on. The dark haired boy can sleep through anything, and by this rate there’s a good chance he’ll die of a heatstroke while Michael is gone, so he opens a window before locking himself in the bathroom.

He deliberately pushes down every thought of yesterday as he strips off his clothes, and he only allows himself a brief glance at his reflection in the mirror. He looks the same as he did yesterday, mostly. A bit paler maybe, tired and hungover and sad. He hates what it does to his face, can’t stand to look at himself even on a good day sometimes, the tight set of his jaw and his soft cheeks, the deep set eyes and the full line of his mouth. How even in his face it’s so obvious something is off, not really male and not really female, just kind of – odd. He used to want to be prettier. Now he just wants to look less like this.

Michael forces himself not to look down as he steps in the shower. No point in making himself feel even worse about all this. He’s already let it get to him too much. It all feels very far away right now, like a nightmare he can’t remember properly, and it doesn’t hurt as sharply any more. He mostly just feels numb; he can’t believe he had a fucking breakdown. Again. It just keeps happening - whenever he thinks everything might magically fall into place somehow, some sort of shit happens. 

With his eyes still closed, he reaches over and turns the tap all the way to the side before turning the water on. The first spray of water makes him flinch away but he stays in the shower, hands at his sides, careful not to touch anything, and lets the scalding hot water run down his body. It feels cleansing.

****

There’s a knock on the door just as he feels like his skin is going to peel off, and then another when he doesn’t answer immediately, this time a lot louder and more urgent. He turns off the water to hear Calum’s muffled voice. “Michael! Mikey, open the door!”

He sighs, reaches over to get a towel and wrap it around himself as tightly as he can so no skin is showing, and unlocks the door.

“Sorry, do you need to pee or something –”

He falls silent when he sees the state Calum is in. He looks panicked, his eyes wide and searching and his chest heaving slightly.

“What’s going on?” Michael asks. Calum keeps staring at him for a long moment before bringing a hand up to his face.

“Nothing, nothing. You were in there for ages, I thought…” He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what I thought. You okay?”

It hits Michael suddenly, his mind gone sluggish from the hot water and air and struggling to catch up.

“Yeah, I’m – I’m fine,” he hurries to say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

It’s obvious Calum doesn’t believe him, so Michael forces himself to smile. “I swear, I’m okay. I just lost track of time.”

“Promise?”

He looks so worried Michael almost wants to pull him in for a hug. He doesn’t, just nods firmly. “I promise, Calum. I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”

He can tell Calum hasn’t forgotten about what happened that night on the bus. He takes a few moments to look Michael up and down before nodding hesitantly. “Alright. Uhm, listen…”

Calum rubs the back of his neck and gestures back to their – Michael’s bed. “Luke texted me while you were in the shower. I think I need to go talk to him.”

Michael swallows. “Oh.”

That stings. Obviously he knew Luke wasn’t going to come running to him the morning after and beg for forgiveness, but he didn’t expect him to text Calum when he knew Michael was with him. And he didn’t expect Calum to want to talk to him, either. It’s petty, Michael knows that, but he can’t help the sharp little stab of jealousy.

“Yeah, sure,” he says. “Did you want to shower first? Because I’m done here, so if you want to, like –”

“Mikey,” Calum interrupts him. “Luke pulled a dick move, but the sooner he gets his ass whipped, the sooner he’ll apologize and everything will be okay again.”

Michael highly doubts any of that is going to happen. “Whatever.”

“This doesn’t mean I’m not on your side. I have your back, okay? Always. But someone needs to talk to him.”

“Why can’t Ashton talk to him?”

“I’m pretty sure he already has, but you know what he’s like with Luke.”

Calum rolls his eyes and, well, Michael has to give him that. Doesn’t mean that he is happy about it. He can’t help feeling like Calum is his only ally in this, and now he’s running off to side with Luke, because Luke is a fucking baby that needs to be pampered at all times.

“Fine, go talk to him. It’s not like you need my permission, anyway.”

Calum snorts. “I wasn’t asking for permission, I was just telling you, didn’t want you to feel like I was leaving you here or something.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

It’s out there before Michael can bite his tongue. For a second he wants to bite out something bitchy to compensate for how vulnerable it sounds but something tells him there’s no point. Calum knows him too well.

“Nah. ‘Course not, you dummy,” Calum says. His shoulders jerk and then he pulls Michael into a hug that he doesn’t even try to resist. Calum smells like sleep and sweat, but it’s perfect.

After Calum leaves, Michael spends a long time just sitting on the edge of the bed in his towel and wallowing in his angst before he finally makes himself get up. He doesn’t want Calum to worry any more than he already does.

When he checks his phone he has three unread messages from Ashton.

 _00:01| He’s an idiot he didn’t mean it_  
_00:14| I shouldn’t have forced anything I’m sorry_  
_00:39| At least text me so I know you’re okay???_

Michael quickly texts back _I’m fine_ and then buries his phone in the depth of his suitcase and starts packing so he doesn’t have to deal with the guilt that is starting to boil in his stomach. This whole thing is going to give him an ulcer someday.

****

Calum comes back about half an hour later, and he looks even more weighed down than before.

“Mikey, don’t get mad at me when I say this, okay?”

Well. Apparently they’re talking about this now.

“Do you think you could – maybe you should talk to Luke. I know – yeah, he’s being a dick, I know –”

“He’s being a huge asshole!”

“I know, I’m mad at him, too. But, like, the way we talked about it before was kinda…we didn’t really talk about rules and stuff like that. I think he’s mainly just being like this because he doesn’t know how to act, you know?”

That is basically what Ashton told him, but Michael doesn’t want to give up being angry yet. “He doesn’t have to – all I – all I want is for him to not call me a guy, that’s all I fucking ask for, there’s no reason to be like this, he –”

Calum stops him with his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, listen. I get that, I completely agree, but this is Luke we’re talking about here.”

Michael just scoffs. It’s sort of Calum’s duty to do this, try and get them to talk to each other, and it’s not like he doesn’t know he’s also talked to Ashton about this. Still, talking to Luke is completely out of the question right now.

“You’re totally right for being angry, though, I get it. Sometimes I could –” Calum breaks off, looking uncomfortable, “anyway.”

“You could what?”

“I don’t know. Hit him, or something.”

“You don’t have to defend my honour, you know? No need to resort to violence.”

Calum chuckles half-heartedly, but his jaw clenches.

“I made it clear to him that if something like that happens again, I’ll do it. I don’t care what Ashton says, I’ll hit him.”

Michael clears his throat, slightly taken aback by the intensity in Calum’s voice, and shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “You don’t have to – he’s your friend, too.”

“I don’t give a shit,” Calum says simply, “You’re more important.”

Michael has to look away. He fiddles with his bag so he doesn’t have to think about the way his heart literally just skipped a beat, despite the sinking feeling in his stomach that everything is going to shit. Because of him. The last thing he needs is another thing to add to the list of things he doesn’t know how to deal with.

“Uhm,” is all Michael says, like a fucking dumbass.

“Anyway, I made him promise not to say something like that again. He’s probably gonna come over to apologize, just a heads up.”

“Right.”

Calum looks at him for a second, his expression unreadable, before pulling Michael in for another hug that he gladly sinks into. “It’ll be fine, Mikey. I promise. It’s just Luke.”

****

Calum pretends to text his mum while Michael packs the rest of his stuff, and Michael pretends he doesn’t know he’s really texting Luke to let him know the air is clear. It’s stupid. This whole thing is stupid. And the worst thing is, Michael is actually nervous.

“This is some bullshit,” he mutters when Calum announces he’s going to check in on Ashton for a bit. Calum sighs as a form of agreement and pets his head before leaving. Michael can’t even be mad at him.

A few minutes later Michael gets a text from Luke saying ‘ _can I talk to you?? :(_ ’ and his headache immediately gets worse. He loves Luke, like he loves all of them, even likes how clingy and childish he can be sometimes, but right now he kind of despises him. It scares Michael, because he never thought it’d ever come to this. Luke isn’t really the type of person you hate. Michael definitely isn’t the type of person to hate anyone. Not even when they were sworn enemies could Michael hate him, Luke has that effect on people, generally.

He sighs deeply and replies ‘ _just come over already._ ’

Michael doesn’t have to wait for long: there’s a knock on his door exactly forty seconds later, not that he counted. It’s sort of endearing to think that Luke either rushed to get here or was already close and was just waiting for Michael’s Okay. Luke is slightly out of breath when Michael opens the door, so it’s probably the former. Might just be nerves, though. At least that means Michael isn’t the only one whose heart is racing.

“Hi,” Luke says in a slightly higher-pitched voice than usual. “Uhm.”

Michael steps aside without a word and watches his face heat up. Luke scurries past him and sits down on the very edge of his bed, suddenly a foot shorter in his nervousness. After closing the door Michael takes a moment to take him in; he looks about as shitty as Michael feels, faint dark circles under his eyes and a flush high on his cheeks like he has a fever. There’s a tangible distance between them, obvious in the way Luke won’t meet his eyes properly, and Michael guesses part of it is his fault. Maybe most of it. Still, he doesn’t make any efforts to move closer to him, instead just leaning against the wall behind him and crossing his arms, building yet another barrier.

“I thought you wanted to talk?”

His voice sounds harsh and cold, and Michael almost winces while he says it. Luke’s eyes glance up at him and back down again. He takes a deep breath, visibly bracing himself.

“I’m sorry, Mikey.”

“That’s it? That’s all you wanted to say?”

Luke makes a chopped off sound in the back of his throat before dropping his head. His shoulders are shaking. It takes Michael a second to realize that he’s crying.

“Shit, Luke”

He pushes off the wall, and reaches out for him almost subconsciously before he stops himself. He doesn’t know if this is allowed.

“I’m sorry, this is stupid, I don’t know why –” Luke’s voice breaks half way through the sentence and Michael forces himself to take the remaining steps to the bed and sit down next to him. Luke leans against him, pushes his face against Michael’s shoulder almost desperately.

“I - I didn’t – mean it, I’m sorry –”

“Shut up. Shut up,” Michael says briskly and snakes his arms around Luke’s middle. He knows Luke weeps easily and almost as often as Michael does, but this is on another level. Michael feels like the ground has been swept from under him. The boy in his arms is rigid, shuddering a bit from time to time, and it’s fucking surreal. Michael isn’t sure what he expected their conversation to lead to, but it wasn’t this. Eventually Luke pulls back and wipes at his eyes, as if he didn’t just literally cry on Michael’s shoulder. His face is bright red.

“This is the worst apology in history, just for the record,” Michael says dryly and it makes Luke laugh, thank fuck.

“I know. I had a whole – speech planned, and then I just…” Luke throws his hands up.

“Hm.”

Luke starts chewing on his bottom lip, still hiccupping every few seconds. “I mean it though, I’m really – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that shit, I don’t know why I did it.”

“You thought I was playing a prank on you,” Michael says with a shrug, but Luke shakes his head.

“No, I – that was fucked up. I know this isn’t a prank. I didn’t know what to do, and then you all – cornered me and it just kinda came out, but I didn’t mean it.”

“Okay.”

“Ash and Calum yelled at me for it.”

Michael snorts, unable to help himself. “Well. Hate to break it to you, but you kinda deserved it.”

“I know, I know! I wasn’t – I’m just trying to say, I get it now. Like, why what I said hurt you.”

“Do you? Get it?”

He turns so he can look at Luke straight on and it makes Luke shy away. “I mean – not, like, everything...Calum didn’t wanna tell me, he said I should ask you about it if I wanted to know.”

Michael waits until Luke gets visibly uncomfortable and starts squirming on the spot. “So? Do you want to know anything?”

“Uhm, yeah, I just don’t know how to ask.”

“Just do it, honestly. I’ll tell you if you fuck up.”

Luke takes another deep breath. “Okay, I guess, uhm… I don’t really get what exactly you mean yet.”

“Hm. Figured.”

That gets a genuine laugh out of Luke. “Yeah, I know. I just – all you said was you don’t feel like a guy, and that was it, and then nobody talked about it anymore and I didn’t know what was going on, and Ashton said he didn’t want to talk about it behind your back so I didn’t have anyone to ask –”

“There is this great new invention, it’s called Google, you might have heard of it –”

“– But I didn’t even know what to look for, I had no idea what the fuck this is about!”

Michael sighs. “Alright, I guess I have to give you that. But, like, you could have just asked, you know? Instead of being a complete asshole about it and _yelling_ at me.”

The blond boy looks so distraught, it physically hurts. This is why it’s so damn hard to fight with Luke.

“I’m sorry,” he says, again, and he sounds like he really means it. “I won’t – I’ll just ask you next time.”

“Revolutionary idea,” Michael drawls, but there’s no bite behind it. He’s not even angry anymore. “Listen, the only reason I told you guys is because I don’t feel comfortable being called a dude or stuff like that. When I say I don’t feel like a guy, I mean it exactly like that. That’s literally all there is to it, okay? And I’m not gonna rip your head off if you ask me questions, when have I ever done that before?”

“Yeah, I – I don’t know why I…yeah. Okay.”

“And for the love of god, stop making that fucking face, you look like I’ve just run over your dog!”

Luke laughs again, leaning against Michael slightly while he does it, and it’s that little gesture that assures him everything is going to go back to normal at some point, and it’s what gives him the push he needs to say what he’s wanted to this whole time. “And to, like, answer your question: I’m – the word for it is genderqueer. Maybe something else but I’m not really sure yet. It basically means that I don’t identify as a guy, but not as a girl, either. It’s kind of – in between, but not really.”

Luke nods slowly, processing the new information, but stays silent. Michael gets it, though. It’s probably a lot to take in at once. He gives him a bit room to breathe and sort out his thoughts before continuing.

“I’m still the same person, Luke, I need you to understand that. Literally nothing has changed, I just don’t want you to call me a dude again, that’s it. I mean, for now, I guess. But, like…We’re still best friends, that hasn’t changed.”

Luke nods, makes sure to hold steady eye contact with Michael this time. “Got it. It won’t happen again.”

“Okay, cool.”

They sit in silence for a while, and for the first time in ages it doesn’t feel strained. Michael didn’t realize how much he missed this, because being with Luke used to be so effortless, and lately it was like there was this heavy cloud hanging over them every time they hung out, even before Michael came out.

“Hey, uhm –” Luke says and coughs. “What about – What pronouns do you want me to use? I’m not – I’m genuinely asking, I’m not trying to –”

“Calm down”, Michael says, suppressing a grin. “’He’ is okay for now. Maybe I’ll change my mind at some point, but for now I’m okay the way it is. Things are weird enough already.”

Luke looks at him all wide eyed and concerned. “You don’t have to – If you want me to use different pronouns, I’ll do it! I’m sorry about earlier, but I mean it! You don’t need to, like –”

Michael interrupts him with a groan. “Jesus Christ, Luke, it was a joke! I’m fine for now. I promise.”

“Okay,” Luke says and nods eagerly. It’s obvious he’s relieved, even though he’s trying very hard to hide it, but Michael couldn’t care less at this point. He’s just glad to have his friend back. He knocks his shoulder against Luke’s, almost pushing him over just to make Luke squeak and shove at him.

“We good?”

Luke smiles. “Yeah.”

Michael groans loudly and lets himself flop back onto the bed. “Thank fuck, I’ve had enough drama for a fucking lifetime!”

****

“You know,” Luke says a few days later from where he’s lounging lazily on his bed, “maybe you should just tell people.”

“What?” Michael frowns. Just a minute ago they were talking about the show that night, and Luke showed him a picture of a sign he saw at the last one, and for a little while Michael almost forgot. Almost. It was so nice to hang out with him again, just the two of them, it was like a weight of a thousand pounds was lifted off Michael’s shoulders. It slipped his mind for a second.

“I’ve been thinking…” Luke trails off, staring down at his phone before finally lifting his head and looking at Michael. “If you’re so unhappy like this, maybe you should tell people.”

Michael turns away. “I’m not unhappy.”

It feels like a lie as soon as it leaves his mouth. Luke frowns.

“Well, but you’re not happy, are you?” he asks.

Michael shrugs, not knowing how to answer the question, but it doesn’t seem like Luke wants an answer, anyway.

“So why not?”

Michael scoffs.

“No, seriously. What do you have to lose?”

He gives Luke a blank stare. “Uh, I don’t know, my entire career, maybe?”

Luke is silent for a beat, then says, “I don’t think you’re going to lose your career over this. People might surprise you.”

“Oh yeah? Is that so?” Michael asks sharply. “Look how you reacted! That sure was a nice fucking surprise. Fuck you if you think I’m doing that again.”

Luke deflates, and before he can say anything Michael gets up and takes his pathetic self to the bathroom, where he locks the door and just stares at himself in the mirror. He can already feel his throat closing up.

Luke is right – he’s naïve and kind of an arse, but he’s right. Michael is being melodramatic. He needs to stop this stupid, pointless pity party that’s been going on for way too long and just get over it already. It’s not like there’s a way around it, might as well face the facts: either he swallows this and learns to live with it or he comes out. That’s it. Those are his options. He can’t go on like this for much longer, can’t sit through one more intervention like this with his heart beating anxiously as if someone is going to drop-kick him in the face any second. He wants to be able to go just _a single fucking day_ without constantly being reminded that something is off. That can’t possibly be too much to ask for.

Michael sighs deeply and drags a clammy hand down his face. It’s crazy to think of how many times he’s stood in different bathrooms in different hotel rooms in different cities with the exact same thought clawing at the back of mind.

What on earth is he going to do?

****

Michael gets a text from Ashton later that day when he’s finally about to drift off to sleep. He blinks warily at the time on his phone and groans. _3:04_. Begrudgingly he opens the message, and it says ' _hey have you seen this???_ ' with a link attached. He sits up straight, suddenly wide awake. For the few seconds it takes his phone to load the link, he can’t help but imagine the worst possible scenarios. Someone found out. One of the boys let something slip.

But it’s a youtube video, not an article or a tweet, and Michael sighs with relief. As soon as he sees the title though, his heartrate picks right up again. What a night.

He recognizes it immediately from the time he pulled an all-nighter watching countless coming out videos. It’s Laura Jane Grace, the singer of Against Me! on some talk show with a ridiculous name. It’s a good video – it made him cry the first time he watched it – but that’s not the point. He’s not in the same situation as she is, not by a long run, but the way she explained it so eloquently and made the interviewer and a huge room full of people listen to her made him giddy, almost. Hopeful.

He exits the video and texts back with shaky hands ‘ _yeah I’ve seen this how did you find it?!_ '

The answer comes immediately, almost like Ashton was waiting for him to reply. ' _I looked it up adn thought youd find it interesting. She plays in a hard rock band and came out to a primarly male audience and she said the reaction was positive, sooo……. I was just thinking if she can do it you can too’_

Huh. So he talked to Luke then, didn’t he? Part of Michael is annoyed, though he doesn’t really know why. Of course Luke wasn’t just going to let it go, and of course he would go to Ashton with it. He always fucking does. But he knows Luke means well, and so does Ashton. So do all of them. He has no right to be angry at anyone.

It takes him a few minutes to psyche himself up to text back. ’ _Thank you, man. I mean it_.’

Just a beat later, Michael’s phone buzzes with a simple ‘ _love you xxxxxx_ ’

He lays awake for half an hour before he clicks on the link again and fasts forward to the 7 minute mark.

 _“You know, the statistics, uh, for people, who experience this are very high and unsettling when it comes to suicide attempts – is it 41 percent?”_  
_“41 percent of trans people attempt suicide. And it’s like 1 to 2 percent of cissexual people.”_  
_“That’s a heavy number. How did you manage your way through that?”_  
_“Uhm – well, I’m part of that statistic.”_

Michael has to stop the video. He doesn’t need to keep going, since he knows the rest of it pretty much by heart. Laura talks about living for her daughter for a bit, and he remembers that part making him smile. This time, all he can think of is Ashton cooped up in his bed, watching this part of the video at 3 in the morning, over and over again, trying desperately to find a solution to a problem he doesn’t quite understand.

****

Staying up until 4 am really doesn’t work for Michael. He’s never been a morning person, not even on his best days, always the one who has to be physically dragged out of bed so they won’t be late, but lately it feels like he’s never actually awake. He needs to start scheduling his angst so it’s during the day and he gets more rest, because constantly running on 4 hours of sleep maximum is taking its toll on him.

“Morning,” he mutters gravelly when he bumps into Ashton on the way to the lobby. His mouth and brain haven’t really connected yet.

Ashton stops in his tracks. “Oh – I was just about to come get you.”

“I’m already up, I’m already up,” Michael groans out, trying to squeeze past him. The goal is to get to the bus as fast as possible and maybe have a quick power nap before their first – whatever it is, might be a radio thing, Michael has no idea. “Move, Irwin!” he shouts when the boy in front of him won’t budge.

Ashton quacks out something that sounds like a laugh and takes a step to the side to let him through. “Slept well?”

Michael grunts and rubs at his eyes. “Could ask you the same.”

All he gets as a reply is a gentle push at his shoulders. Michael appreciates the sentiment, but he could do with something a bit less no-homo right now, so as soon as they’re in the elevator he leans his side against Ashton and latches onto him, revelling in the others body heat.

“Uhm –”

“Shhh. Tired.”

Ashton twitches a bit, forever uneasy when it comes to physical contact for reasons Michael will never understand, but eventually he settles and puts an arm around Michael’s shoulder.

****

They have another radio thing first thing in the morning, and then another, and then another, and it’s brutal. Not the interviews, just the whole thing in itself, getting up at arse o’ clock in the morning just to sit and answer the same questions they’ve answered a thousand times already in the last few weeks. At least there are a few fan questions coming in, which are fun, most of the time, but apart from that it’s just plain tiring. Michael alternates between the other three with his cuddles, latching onto whoever is closest to him until they get annoyed and push him off. Ashton is usually first to demand his personal space, but today it’s almost like he quietly surrenders to his fate. The only time he says something about it is on the bus afterwards, with Michael squished in the middle seat between Ashton and Calum despite the fact that there is a perfectly funtional seat right across from him.

“You’re clingy today.”

“I’m always clingy.”

Ashton hums vaguely and faces the window again. Michael can’t find it in him to be bothered by it. He’s too exhausted even after just five hours of work – if you can call it that – and the steady warmth against his thigh where Calum’s leg is pressed against it is making him sleepy. It’s funny to think how much he used to hate car trips, because now he’s grateful for every second he gets to sit down and not answer any questions or smile or put on a show for anyone. Sometimes he just needs to distance himself from the constant whirlwind around them, or else he’ll go crazy, so Michael lets himself shut off his head for a while.

He must have dozed off, because when he opens his eyes again it’s to someone shaking him.

“We’re almost at the hotel. You have to wake up,” Calum says, and he’s so impossibly close and soft looking and gentle and Michael is way too tired to deal with this right now. He grunts and shoves his face even further into Ashton’s neck. He can feel Calum leaning away from him and then he’s murmuring something to Luke.

Michael’s just about to fall back asleep when Ashton nudges him, a lot less gentle than Calum. “Hey, what are you doing today?”

“I dunno. Probably sleep.”

“Sleep can wait, wanna hang out instead?”

Michael’s eyes dart to the boy on his other side, but Calum isn’t even listening. He’s still busy talking to Luke. Michael doesn’t know what he expected. “Uhm – I dunno, I’m kind of knackered.”

When he turns to Ashton, he’s surprised to see the way his face falls before he can cover it up. Michael is about to reel back when Calum announces, “Luke and I are going to explore for a bit, does anyone wanna come with?”

“Nah, bro,” Ashton says immediately, and Michael shakes his head, a vague twist of something in his stomach. He tells himself it is not jealousy, because that would be ridiculous. Calum spends every day with him, every waking moment and recently even the nights. There’s no reason to be jealous.

Calum knocks his shoulder against Michael’s in passing when they’re getting out of the car. “I’ll text you when we get back,” he says and then he’s sprinting to catch up to Luke, leaving Michael to stare after him. Before he can even think of reacting, Ashton is already hopping off the bus, smoothing out his shirt and smirking.

“So – what about that Mashton hang out?”

****

“Don’t freak out, okay?,” Ashton says, very suddenly, after they’ve finished the second episode of The Walking Dead, both of them sprawled across his bed with a beer in their hands. Michael saw it coming. It kept him awake even when his eyes kept slipping close every few seconds. Ashton has been tense all day, and sitting this close to him it’s hard not to notice the way the muscles in his legs flex like he can’t quite relax.

Michael laughs airily, rubbing a hand over his aching face. “Yeah, that sentence doesn’t make me want to freak out at all.”

Ashton winces. “I guess that wasn’t the best wording. I just wanted to say that I meant what I said the other day, about like, coming out. I have no idea what you’re going through, I’m aware of that, but like – I just wanted to make sure you know that you can come out whenever – whenever you want.”

Michael hums. “Why is this so important to you?”

“It’s just – I don’t want you to be unhappy, is all.”

“I’m not,” Michael says, “Honestly, I’m not,” he adds when Ashton goes to say something. “What makes you think I’m unhappy?”

Ashton shrugs, fiddling with his sleeves for a bit while the main menu plays loudly in the background. “You were so clingy today, I don’t know. I thought you might be sad.”

“Since when does me being clingy mean I’m sad?”

“I don’t know, Mikey, I was just worried.”

“That why you wanted to hang out? Because you could have just asked, you know?”

Ashton groans, but there’s a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. “No, I wanted to hang out because we haven’t hung out in a while. The other thing was just…a side reason. I felt like you didn’t really get what I meant last time – I just, I want you to know people might surprise you. I really, really don’t think it’s gonna be the end of your career.”

There it is again. Michael rolls his eyes. “That’s not – that isn’t the point. It’s not just about my career.”

“What do you mean?”

He gives Ashton a look, but he doesn’t get it, just frowns at him. “Dude, come on. If people start talking shit, I won’t be the only one they’ll target. I’m not the only member of this band, am I?”

“No, but you’re the one dealing with this,” Ashton says, as if that invalidates every other argument. “It should be your decision alone to come out.”

“It’s not that easy and you know it.”

“Michael…”

For some reason Ashton’s tone sets something off in him, probably because he’s been having this argument with himself for so long now he can’t remember ever not feeling cut up over it. Michael knows he’d be happier in the long run if he came out, no matter how people react, but at the same time – he doesn’t think he could do that to the band, not after everything they’ve been through to get where they are now. And, more importantly, he couldn’t bear it if the others turned their backs on him for it.

He sets his beer down on the bedstand next to him and cuts Ashton off. “No! Don’t _Michael_ me, Ashton, it is not that simple! It’s easy for you to say, nothing is going to happen, people aren’t gonna be dicks, how do you know? How do you fucking know any of that?”

Ashton doesn’t answer for a beat. “I never said nobody is going to be a dick, but I mean… some people are always going to be dicks.”

“This isn’t about some people though, this is about everyone! I can’t live my life with just you guys as my friends!”

“That’s not going to happen, Michael!” He’s yelling now. Ashton does this thing where he starts yelling at people who are yelling at him, no matter what situation. Michael snorts a bit, because for some reason he’s so wound up he’s done a 180 and the whole thing is vaguely funny now. “Fuck you, stop laughing at me!”

“I’m not!” Michael says, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah, right, asshole,” Ashton huffs out and rolls his eyes. “Listen, that’s not going to happen. This isn’t the end of the world. Nobody is going to stop wanting to be your friend because you’re not a guy – well, okay, not the important people anyway,” he adds when he sees the looks on Michael’s face. “You get what I mean, though, right? People who love you aren’t going to turn their backs on you.”

“That’s – yeah, okay, but even if I do come out – I’m not saying I will – but even if I do, it’s not like everyone is just going to stop calling me a dude, I’d probably get called a dude just out of spite. I mean, you know how…people already say shit, and if I do this…they’re going to say…things,” he finishes lamely. He’s way too sleepy to argue properly right now.

“Is that what you’re scared of?” Ashton asks with a frown.

“No – I mean, yes, obviously, but I’m scared of the whole thing, I’m scared of everything! I don’t know what would happen if I – you never know how people are gonna react before you actually do come out, you know? I mean, what would I even say? How do I explain this?”

“Just tell them what you told us. You’re not a guy, but not a girl either. That’s it.”

Michael scoffs. “ _That’s it_. Okay, Ashton, sure, because it went down so well last time, right? What if they react like Luke did? What if they think it’s a joke? What if they think it’s…I dunno, what if they laugh in my face?”

Ashton thinks it over for a bit, scratching his beard absentmindedly. “I mean, I can’t tell you what’s going to happen, there’s always gonna be – I’m not an expert on coming out, so I can’t really – oh my god, stop laughing!”

Michael is snorting so hard he can feel the beer coming up through his nose.

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m obviously no coming out expert,” Ashton scowls, but he giggles a bit like he can’t help it. “There are people who’ve come out and it went fine, that’s all I’m saying. It doesn’t have to be a total catastrophe, you don’t have to hide because you’re scared everyone is going to hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“And, like, no matter what happens, I’ll have your back. Me and Calum and Luke, we’ll deal with the shitbags who try to come at you.”

Michael grins. He’s sobered up a bit now, but he’s still at that place of tipsiness where everything is soft and sparkly and he feels nice. “I love you.”

Ashton awwws softly and reaches out to stroke his arm. “I love you too, buddy.”

“I’m glad you’re still my friend,” Michael says.

Ashton looks at him for a moment, his eyes warm and shiny like they always get when he’s drunk, and his smile grows into something softer, more earnest. Then he places his beer on the table with a loud clonk that makes them both wince and crawls over to Michael. He’s probably going for a hug, but the way Michael is sitting makes it impossible, his knees clutched close to his chest, so Ashton’s arms get caught awkwardly between them. They wriggle around for a bit before it’s even remotely comfortable, and eventually Michael is practically sitting in Ashton’s lap, a curly haired head stuffed into his neck.

He can feel Ashton let out a huffy breath. “This didn’t work out as well as I thought it would.”

“It’s the thought that counts,” Michael says and keeps Ashton in place when he tries to sit up again. Cuddling with him is such a rare opportunity, there is no way he is passing it up now. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content and maybe it’s just the booze, but he is getting choked up a tiny bit.

“You know, a lot of things are starting to make sense now,” Ashton says out of nowhere and Michael frowns.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, things…” Ashton wiggles around a bit before continuing. “Like when you wore that shirt for three weeks straight and then stopped wearing it when someone said it was girly.”

Michael hums. He remembers that shirt. He also remembers throwing it away and the look Ashton gave him when he asked what happened to it and Michael told him to mind his own business.

“You noticed that?”

“Of course I did. I thought it was, like…like with Calum. When you said you had something to tell us I thought you were gonna say you like guys.”

“I mean, I do like guys,” Michael says and Ashton barks out a laugh that shakes both of them.

“Okay, alright. Noted. But like, yeah. I dunno, I didn’t expect you to come out with this,” he says once he’s calmed down, making a vague gesture, “but I kinda saw something like that coming. I don’t think Luke did.”

Michael swallows. He’s been wondering when Ashton was going to bring that up.

“It’s not an excuse, I’m not trying to excuse what he said,” Ashton adds quickly when he can sense Michael freeze up. “But you know, I don’t think he would ever try to hurt you on purpose. Because I’m worried you’re scared of coming out because of what happened with him, and I just…I don’t think people are going to react like that. If you tell them up front what’s going on and what you want them to do, I think it’ll go a lot smoother, you know? Most people just don't know anything about this and that's why they react...like Luke did. It doesn't always mean they hate you. Just a thought.”

“Okay,” Michael says, and he leaves it at that. He doesn’t know what else to say. Everything Ashton is saying makes sense to him, and he’s been trying to convince himself of it for ages. But the thing is, as much as he wants to be recognized as who he is, more than anything he is terrified of putting it out there like that. He knows other people in bands have done it before, and he knows it’s probably not going to be the end of the world, but…

But.

There’s twitter. And the media. His family. Michael has never talked to either of his parents about any of this, not after that talk with his mum that didn’t really go anywhere. They know he isn’t straight, ever since his Mum caught him making out with a boy once time when she came home early, but that’s about as far as that conversation went until it got too uncomfortable.

And then there’s Calum. He’s been trying to shove that thought away from him, but it’s always there, biting at the back of his mind: What if everything goes to shit and Calum decides he’s not worth sticking around for? It’s stupid, rooted in nothing but pure paranoia, and Michael knows that. Calum has never given him a reason not to trust him, not once – and yet.

Michael takes a deep, slightly shuddery breath. “I’m not going to tell people. At least not yet. Maybe later, when things are more…settled.”

Ashton hums sleepily. “Sounds reasonable. Promise me you’re not doing this for the sake of the band though, yeah?”

“I’m not. As much as I love you guys, no.”

“Good. I don’t want you to feel like you have to compromise your own happiness just so we sell more records or whatever. I want you to do this at your own pace.”

“Yes, dad,” he replies with an eye roll, unable to keep the smile off his face.


	4. Chapter 4

Michael takes his advice, if not in the way Ashton expected him to – he buys nail polish.

They pass a drugstore on their way to get lunch the next day, and suddenly there’s this idea in Michael’s head. He tells the others to go without him, that he’ll be right there, and Calum looks concerned but doesn’t object, and then Michael enters the store and just – buys nail polish. It’s not earthshattering and nobody looks at him weird. He just puts in on the counter and pays for it. And that’s it.

His heart is beating fast when he catches up with the boys, and he feels nervous and a bit silly, but good. A good kind of nervous, the kind of butterflies he gets just before they go out on stage. Michael catches himself patting his pocket more than once, just to check if it’s still there and every time he thinks of putting it on it feels like victory. He’s excited about this, because he hasn’t worn nail polish in ages. The last time was in year 9 and it was more of a joke than anything else. Or at least it was only a joke for the girl who put it on him and then laughed her ass off. That particular memory tastes sour now.

Michael is almost done with his left hand when he lifts his head to see Ashton walking over to him from the other side of the dressing room.

“Is it bad today?” he asks with a concerned frown. Michael just stares. “You know, the dysphoria.”

Oh. _Oh._ Ashton thinks that Michael buying nail polish is some kind of coping mechanism or something like that. Not for the first time, he kind of wants to ask how deep Ashton’s research into the topic went.

“I – no, it’s not that. I’m not feeling dysphoric. Or, well, not more than usual.”

Now Ashton looks even more worried than before, and Michael kind of wants to slap himself.

“It was a joke, I’m fine! I just bought this for fun.”

“Did you buy it for, like, onstage?” Calum pipes up. Michael wasn’t aware he was listening; he could have sworn he had his headphones in just a few seconds ago.

“I just like it,” Michael says simply. “It’s pretty.”

Calum smiles, and it’s the nonchalant way he does it, like he agrees and he thinks it looks pretty but doesn’t make a big deal out of it that makes Michael’s heart squeeze with affection.

“But…I thought you didn’t identify as a girl?”

All three of them turn their heads to look at Luke, who’s kind of hovering next to the couch. His eyes find Michael. “I mean – it’s fine if you do, I’m just…I’m just asking.”

Michael considers this for a moment, still hesitant about how much he wants to share, but he figures it’s best to just explain it.

“Nail polish doesn’t have a gender. Just because I’m not a girl doesn’t mean I can’t wear it.”

“Oh,” Luke says earnestly. “Yeah, of course. Sorry.”

“No problem.”

Ashton nudges Luke’s shoulder and smiles as if to say ‘good boy’. “So…is that a thing you wanna do, wear makeup and stuff?” he asks.

Michael is kind of numbed to the topic at this point. He really doesn’t see the necessity to always talk about his reasons for doing stuff. It just complicates everything. Plus, he feels like a zoo animal when they’re crowding around him like this, like he’s some kind of abstract art object. But he also understands why the others need to ask, not just for themselves, but for him, to make him feel validated or whatever, so he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done it before.”

“Yeah, but I mean, like, regularly.”

“Not sure yet.”

Truth is, he’s pretty sure he would like it.

Who is he kidding, he’d love it. He loved wearing eyeliner the few times he tried to apply it himself, even though it probably looked awful, loved the way it made him feel all pretty and bright, and he’s always thought it was extremely relaxing when people put stage make up on him before interviews.

“Think it might be fun to try it.”

Calum hums and then gasps and hits his thigh excitedly. “What if you just ask Lou, I bet she’d do it!”

“I don’t know…”

“Why not?”

He makes a face, hoping Calum will just let it go. “I don’t know, I shouldn’t, she’s doesn’t get paid to do our hair and stuff, I don’t wanna, like – it’s not her job.”

“She won’t think it’s weird, Michael.”

And it’s like – Michael knows that, technically. He’s seen how happy Lou gets every time Harry lets her do more complicated stuff with his hair, and whenever he wanted to dye his hair she was down for it in a heartbeat. It’s not that he’s scared she’ll laugh in his face…for the most part.

“You could ask her to do it before our show on Saturday,” Ashton throws in, looking hopeful. Just for a second, Michael gets an image of a different Ashton, younger, sitting on the edge of a pool, wet fringe clinging to his forehead and eyes wide and earnest and confused, yelling over his shoulder “You can keep your shirt on if you want. It’s just me!”

He’s looking for a solution, because that’s the Ashton way to do things: analyse the problem, find a solution. And it’s sweet that he’s trying to help, and Michael is grateful, he is, but he would also very much appreciate it if the others could stopped pretending there was an easy solution to this. The way they’re all looking at him makes him feel like he’s suffocating.

“Alright, are we done talking about this now?”

Ashton gives him another sad look, like Michael has offended him somehow, like him wearing make-up has suddenly become Ashton’s number one life goal, but he doesn’t say anything and turns back to his phone. He isn’t one to pry.

Calum isn’t either, but he’s more observant than the other boy. He’s known Michael too long to just let it go, knows what it means when he fiddles with his hands, or doesn’t meet their eyes. Normally it’s comforting to know that there’s always someone who knows how he’s feeling, who’s so tuned in to every little change of mood Michael goes through to instantly know what he needs, but right now it’s disconcerting. He can feel Calum’s eyes on him as he pretends to scroll through his phone, silently watching, waiting for some kind of sign to tell him what Michael wants.

What Michael wants is to not be stared at, so he gets up without a word to go to the bathroom. Surely Calum won’t follow him there just to keep looking at him reproachfully.

Maybe he should just do it, get it over with, just to see if it’s as good as he imagines it. He could probably play it off as a joke or something, pretend he’s dressing up as a joke, pretend he’s wearing make-up as a joke, what a blast! Fucking hell. Michael really, honestly can’t stand himself right now.

He’s still scared, he’s terrified, but more than anything he is fucking sick of taking three steps back for every step forward. His reflection looks slightly manic, the circles under his eyes impossibly dark against pale skin, and he’s tired of always having to do this, staring himself down until it starts to look like someone took his face apart and puzzled the pieces together all wrong, so he decides – fuck it. Just fuck it.

****

It turns out Lou doesn’t think anything of it, just shrugs and says “sure” when he asks, all shaking hands and repeating “only if you have time, though” so many times she rolls her eyes and physically pushes him down onto the seat in front of the make-up mirror.

“Next time don’t wait until half an hour before show time, babe, yeah? I’m happy to do this any time you want, I’ve always wanted to put stuff on you. You’re gonna look amazing, just you wait.”

And so Michael closes his eyes when she tells him to and stares at the ceiling the rest of the time, his own heartbeat unbelievably loud in his ears. He’s doing this. There’s no going back now.

 

“All done.”

For the first time since he sat down, Michael allows himself to look into the mirror. Immediately his eyes fall on the heavy eye make-up, dark smudges that scream punk rock, but are still defined enough to look – glamorous, is the only word he can think of, and it makes him flush. He’s never thought of it as something that would suit him, but it does, kind of. He likes it. He also likes the way the mascara makes his lashes so long and thick, just like Lou said when she was applying it. “Your eyelashes are a dream,” she had sighed, and Michael has to say he agrees. They look pretty dreamy like this.

“Do you like it?” Lou says from behind him, a knowing smile on her lips.

Michael nods furiously, “Yeah,” he croaks out, and he means it. He fucking loves it. He is reeling with the adrenaline of it, of liking this, still not completely convinced it’s allowed. Lou pats his shoulder fondly.

“Alright, love, I gotta run, but there’s some more glitter if you need it, just knock yourself out, yeah?”

Michael smiles weakly when she throws him a wink over her shoulder and then she’s gone and he’s alone. He gulps audibly.

Glitter. There’s glitter on his face. He didn’t even notice until now, but there is definitely a very distinct shine to his cheekbones, and it actually, literally, genuinely sparkles when he moves his face. It’s subtle though, just enough that you can see it if you know it’s there, and he’s kind of glad. He’s nervous enough as it is.

“Mikey?”

He whirls around so quickly it makes his neck crack. It’s Calum, because of fucking course it is. It almost doesn’t surprise him at this point. He’s standing in the doorway, already wearing his stage clothes, blatantly staring at Michael. The make up on his face feels a lot weirder and a lot less glamorous all of a sudden.

He clears his throat and Calum’s eyes fly up to meet his from where he was staring at something just below Michael’s neck

“I look fucking ridiculous, don’t I?”

Michael tries to keep it light, so he adds a little laugh at the end, but he can feel a blush starting to rise up his throat. And it’s just from Calum looking at him, he realizes. He’s blushing like a complete moron just from Calum seeing him like this. Christ, he’s so fucked. So royally, thoroughly fucked.

Calum is shaking his head like he can’t actually believe what he’s seeing, and it makes Michael nervous, makes his skin tingle where Calum’s gaze is wandering from his hair to his face and then further down, and – fuck. His mouth drops open. Michael is pretty sure his own breathing is audible from across the room by now.

“No. God, you – you look gorgeous, Mikey,” Calum says, so quietly Michael almost misses it. His eyes snap back up and then they’re just looking at each other, the air between them so charged Michael could swear he can feel it on his skin.

“Really?” Michael asks, for lack of something better to say, and Calum laughs almost hysterically.

“Yes, _fuck_ , yes, really!”

There’s a trickle of silence, and it feels so fucking heavy, like his heart is going to burst out of his chest any second. He takes a shuddering breath. “Promise?”

Calum makes a wounded noise and takes three big steps to cover the distance between them. “Promise, I promise, Mikey. You’re so – ” He doesn’t even finish his sentence, just takes Michael’s face in his hands and surges forward to kiss him square on the mouth.

The shock of it sends Michael reeling, his body reacting before his brain has a chance to catch up, hands gripping onto Calum’s shoulder for leverage. He steps in closer when Calum starts pulling away, and then Calum moves back in with just as much urgency but less force, and this time it’s a proper kiss. There is a hand on his waist and another curling around his neck, but it’s hard to focus on anything that isn’t Calum’s lips moving against his.

It’s clumsy and breathless and their noses bump together more often than not and it is so much better than any kiss he’s ever gotten. There are no fireworks or explosions, it’s just loud, it’s overwhelmingly loud in his head, and out of his head, too. It’s hard to believe this is actually happening, that Calum is making these breathless involuntary noises like he’s waited just as long for this as Michael and it’s just – too much. Calum shifts so his legs slot into Michael’s and it sends a shock through both of them, jolting them apart very suddenly. When Michael blinks his eyes open it’s to Calum swaying slightly on the spot, his eyes wide and panicked.

“Shit, sorry,” Michael splutters out, and it doesn’t make any sense whatsoever but he’s glad he said it because it wipes away the tense look on Calum’s face.

“What are you sorry for?” Calum asks with a small smile. Michael loves it when he smiles like that, all soft and laid bare, but, really, he loves it when Calum smiles period. He loves a lot of things about him, actually, and right now it’s almost unbearable.

“Mikey,” Calum says softly when it takes Michael too long to answer, and his voice is so shaky Michael wants to scoop him up and never let him go again.

“It’s fine. It’ll be fine,” he offers, but Calum shakes his head. Michael knows what he’s thinking because he’s thinking it, too: They have the worst possible timing. Not just in a general sense, but also in a very literal sense. They have like 5 minutes left until they have to get on stage, but he can’t bring himself to care. Not now when his best friend in the whole world is looking so small and absolutely terrified.

Michael holds his arms open as an invitation, part of him scared he’ll be rejected, but Calum breaks into a smile so bright it could probably light up the entire fucking continent, and goddammit, Michael needs to kiss him again. He does, quickly, on the cheek, which makes Calum grin even wider and Michael can’t help it, he cranes his neck to press a proper kiss to the corner of Calum’s mouth before burying his face in the crook of his neck.

His mind is still reeling, but there’s a firm pressure from the arms around him and a racing heartbeat next to his cheek, and he knows it’ll be fine because he loves Calum. He loves him.

****

They’ve never played like this before. The initial reaction when Michael walks out is deafening, and he can feel his chest swell with the relief and pride of it, knowing the fans love it as much as he does. He’s all over the stage, so much giddy energy in his bones that he can’t stand still long enough to even finish his verses, and then he pushes the others away from their mikes to sing theirs. Luke sends surprised looks his way, but as always he’s more than happy to play along. Calum is beaming every time Michael lets himself look, his face deliciously flushed and his eyes crinkly, and Michael has to push down the weird urge to run over and lick down the line of his throat, just to see what he would do. It makes him reckless, to know that it’s something he could do, and he runs around twice as much as he usually does to get rid of the pent up energy.

The tension is tangible; Michael can tell even the fans know something is different by the way they’re screaming just a bit more and a bit louder than usual, but maybe that’s just his own excitement making everything better, and Ashton and Luke can definitely tell, judging from the way they share glances every now and then. It’s making the whole band sound better, almost like they’ve past some kind of hurdle they didn’t even know was there before.

When it’s Calum’s turn to introduce Amnesia, he steps up to the mike with the same grin that hasn’t left his face the whole show.

“Is it my turn to talk? I think it’s my turn to talk. I can finally tell you what I’ve wanted to tell you this whole time,” he pauses for effect and waits until the crowd is almost completely quiet. The whole room is collectively holding their breath. Then he opens his arms and yells, “Good evening, you beautiful, beautiful people!”

The screams pick up again, even more deafening than before, and when Calum turns to the band, his teeth blinking in the spotlight and a halo of light surrounding his head, Michael gets an almost painful stab of love in his chest.

“Nice one, bro,” Ash yells from the back and giggles. “How long did it take you to come up with that?”

“Truly moving, that was,” Luke says with an overdramatic voice. Calum just laughs with them, too caught up in his own giddiness to play along with the joke. His eyes find Michael while he’s still laughing, wide and honest and open, and Michael swears he is shining, actually radiating light. He has to look away; it’s too metaphorical for him to deal with when there are thousands of people watching him.

“I think we can all agree that Calum is a fantastic public speaker,” he belts into his mike instead, “give it up for Calum!”

They do, and the boys join in with Michael’s clapping for a bit, until Calum steps up to his mike again. Michael expects him to actually introduce the song this time, but he doesn’t.

“While we’re at it, can we give it up for Michael for looking even more gorgeous than usual?”

Michael can basically hear every single phone and every single camera zoom in on his face as he can’t do anything but smile like a complete moron. He doesn’t even care, he doesn’t care about the _awwwww_ ’s in the audience or Luke and Michael making kissing noises at him either, because all he cares about is the boy on the other side of the stage, who is getting down on one knee – and fuck, if that isn’t a sight – and holding his arms out with his palms up, as though to present Michael to the audience.

Every bit of nerves leave his body. He almost wants to puff out his chest because he feels so proud to be up here with his boys, with his boy. There’s a feeling bubbling up his throat he can’t quite put into words. He feels warm all over, and not just from the vicious stage lights. He feels – he feels like himself.

“You really put in the extra effort today, I gotta say,” Luke says, and Michael replies with the first thing that comes to his head: “Just for you lovely people, I thought I’d make it special for you tonight.” It makes the crowd roar, but he’s looking at Calum while he says it.

“Alright, this is genuinely heart-warming, but we do have a few more songs we wanna play for you guys, so this next one is Amnesia,” Ashton chimes in, always the responsible one, and the screams die down slowly as Michael starts playing. Thankfully he could play this song in his sleep by now, which gives him more time to focus on slowing down his breathing.

During the twenty second break they have backstage, after drying off sweat and going to the toilet, Calum pops up behind Michael, his head on his shoulder, and just before they have to go on again, he kisses him on the cheek and runs off giggling. Michael can see the way his eyes are sparkling all the way across the stage.

****

They’re lying on another hotel bed later that night, again, only a few inches between them. Calum is playing idly with Michael’s clammy fingers with a slightly nervous look on his face, like he still isn’t sure if this is okay. Michael doesn’t think it could be more obvious that it is definitely more than okay with him, what with the way his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but he can relate.

After the gig, when the adrenaline started wearing off, there were a few minutes where he was scared shitless. What the fuck had he done? It was only just beginning to go back to normal and then they had to go and ruin all of it.

But then Calum pulled him along to his hotel room, throwing giddy looks over his shoulder every now and then that sent Michael’s head spinning, and now he isn’t scared anymore. This isn’t scary, and this isn’t even new, strictly speaking. This is just Calum and Michael, and they’ve been doing this for as long as he can remember. Even back when they were in high school, they would have sleepovers at each other’s houses and sleep in a single bed together. The habit didn’t die down when they went on tour, the bed just got smaller. They’ve been doing this forever, Michael realizes. There’s no reason to be scared. He’s always loved Calum, and Calum has always loved him back. Loving Calum has become second nature to him now; anything else wouldn’t make sense.

“You were really good tonight,” Michael says softly, because it’s true and he thinks Calum should be told as often as possible. Calum looks up from their hands and smiles.

“So were you. You looked amazing.”

“Oh, did I? You liked it? I couldn’t tell.”

Calum snorts out a laugh, the kind that makes his eyes go all crinkly at the edges, and Michael feels an entire army of butterflies take off in his belly. He swears he used to be punk rock, whatever happened to that?

“Yeah, I know, I kinda kept it lowkey tonight,” Calum gets out between laughs.

“You call that lowkey?”

Calum calms down slowly, his grin turning into a smirk. “Well,” he says, and it sends a shiver down Michael’s spine. “I’d say it was pretty tame.”

There’s a split second where Michael wants to get up, his first instinct still to laugh it off and push him away, but then he remembers – he can do this now, maybe. So he reaches up to touch Calum’s neck and the reaction is immediate. The smug look slides off Calum’s face, his eyes falling shut as Michael drags his fingertips all the way down from his jaw to the tattoo on his collarbone. He brushes Calum’s shirt aside and takes his time tracing the ink under his skin, just because he can. When he strokes upward again to comb through the thick hair at the back of Calum’s head, Calum makes such a beautiful noise Michael’s heart seems to fall right out of his body.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and it’s like he’s unable to look away. He always loved how open and unafraid Calum is with his affection, how he can just let go completely and put so much trust in other people. He is so – sensual, it is insane, and it’s absolutely mind blowing to witness up close – to be the reason he is like this. Michael thinks it might be his favourite thing in the world. He wants to touch every single inch of Calum and watch goose bumps break out everywhere.

Calum opens his eyes again. “Why’d you stop?”

He blinks. He didn’t realize he had stopped, if he’s being honest, but Calum doesn’t dwell on it. He reaches up to mimic Michael, hand lying on Michael’s cheek, fingers in his hair and Michael’s heart is threatening to burst out of his chest with love.

“I like you,” Calum says simply.

“You do, huh?”

“Yup.”

Michael hums.

“So does that mean that you like like me?”

Calum bursts out laughing again, and Michael feels like a complete knob grinning at him like this, like he’s head over heels gone for him, but once Calum calms down he grins right back.

“You’re an idiot,” Calum says.

“Well, if it helps, I like you back,” Michael replies, and Calum turns his face into the pillow and mumbles something inaudible.

“What was that?”

There’s a pause, and then Calum faces him again. “I said ‘good.’”

The corners of his eyes have gone all crinkly and there’s that glint in his eyes again, like he sees some kind of light in Michael that he doesn’t have a name for. He almost looks in awe. Part of Michael wants to hide from him, because it makes his skin feel paper thin to be looked at like this, but an even bigger part is filling with something like pride. He never thought he’d be looked at like this, like something that needs to be touched gently and softly.

“What are you staring at?”

Calum grins wider. “Just admiring the view.”

“Oh god,” Michael groans and slaps a hand across his eyes, his face already burning. “What the fuck!”

Calum just barks out a laugh, so Michael swats at him blindly. “You ruined the moment!”

“But it’s true!”

“Shut up, oh my god!” There’s a hand grabbing at Michael’s fingers to get his hand away from his face. “No, leave me!”

“Can’t kiss you like this though, can I?”

And holy shit, if that doesn’t make Michael’s heart skip a beat. He pretends to put up a fight when Calum pries the hand from his eyes, but then he can’t help smiling back dopily at him. It hits Michael suddenly, how long he’s had all of this love stored away for Calum, how long he probably could have done this but never did, and he moves forward to press a kiss to his lips, short and sweet. When he tries to move back, Calum follows him, smile still edged into his face like he can’t stop it, so it’s less of a kiss and more of a face nuzzle. Eventually he just gives up and rubs his nose against Michael’s.

Michael could float away with how happy he is, he can’t remember ever feeling this light before. It’s like all of the doubts and fears that have been weighing down on him have disappeared, just because Calum is here with him. He’s twitching with his need to be even closer, so he shuffles towards Calum, who puts his arms around Michael immediately and squeezes, still beaming. Michael is pretty sure he could spend the rest of his life like this.

****

It really didn’t turn out as terrifying as Michael thought it would, this whole Being Yourself thing, and he knows he mostly has his boys to thank for that. Ashton has been going on about it for days on end, about how important it is that Michael experiments and doesn’t force himself to ‘compartmentalize’ his life.

“I don’t even fucking know what that word means,” Michael snorts out when Ashton says it, his face hilariously serious.

“It means,” Ashton says, “that you shouldn’t feel like you need to hide this part of you. You need to embrace yourself.”

So that’s what Michael does. He embraces himself. He asks Lou to do his makeup a few times before shows until she just shows him the basics and tells him to do it himself, so then putting on makeup becomes part of his pre-show-routine. Not all the time, though, just whenever he feels like it.

Michael feels breathless sometimes with the fact that he can do this, can do things that make him feel good whenever he feels like it. The reaction has been pretty good, too, from what he’s seen on twitter. The only thing that’s even remotely bothered him so far was an article in some random magazine about how he’s “desperately trying to be the next Gerard Way,” but Luke grabbed it out of his hand before he could get more than a glimpse of it. “Nobody reads that shit anyway,” he said, looking grim, and tossed it back to where Michael had picked it up. The fact that Luke stood up for him was enough to make the stupid headline seem completely irrelevant.

And it’s not just the makeup, it’s the fact that he can reach out for Calum’s hand when they’re sitting next to each other on the bus, and Calum will smile and lace their fingers together, and it isn’t weird, not even a little bit. Ashton raised his eyebrows the first time he saw Calum press a kiss to Michael’s palm, but he didn’t say anything. In general, nobody even bats an eyelash when they start cuddling more frequently than before.

“I’m pretty sure they all know, anyway. Ashton does,” Calum says casually when Michael tells him about the weird feeling he has, and it’s like the ground has been swept from under him for a second.

“What do you mean?” he squeaks, “Ashton knows? How?”

Calum laughs and swats at his chest, but Michael is pretty sure his shock is appropriate – he’s nowhere near as upset as he could be, mainly because he’s still kind of tipsy. Going out after the gig was Ashton’s idea, as always, even though Michael wasn’t sure what they were supposed to be celebrating. He said so, and Ashton gave him a look like the answer to that should be obvious.

“Well, I told him,” Calum says with a shrug and walks over to the bed. “I mean, I told him I had a crush on you, like, four months ago, and I’m pretty sure he’s clever enough to figure out the rest.”

For some reason, it takes a few seconds until that information reaches Michael’s brain. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised, because everyone always goes to Ashton with their problems, It’s always been like that. And he knows Calum has had feelings for him for a while now, although he isn’t sure what exactly “a while” means. He was too flustered to ask when Calum mentioned it, and he really doesn’t think now is the right moment.

“Okay,” he says instead, still hovering awkwardly and watching Calum get comfortable – like a metaphor for their entire relationship.

Calum pouts and reaches out for him. “Lie down with me. You’re too far away.”

And just like that, Michael has to fight back a laugh. Calum does that to him. As soon as he’s in arm’s reach, Calum grabs Michael and rolls him over his body so they’re lying face to face. Michael can smell the alcohol in his breath, but it’s alright, it’s actually kind of sweet. Might just be him being whipped, but whatever.

Calum blinks slowly, just taking him in. “You’re my favourite person, have I ever told you that?”

“I don’t think so.”

Calum keeps looking at him solemnly, then moves his hand up to Michael’s cheek to rub gentle circles into his skin. “Did you know that I love your face?”

“My entire face?”

“All of it.”

“Alright,” Michael says with a snort, “how drunk are you, exactly?”

He makes a vague noise and waggles his hand around before proceeding to stroke Michael’s face. He’s starting to get sleepy already, Michael can tell by the way his eyelids keep drooping. When he speaks again, it comes out mumbled. “Should’ve told you earlier.”

“Told me what earlier?”

Calum hums, his eyes already closed, and then seems to remember he hasn’t answered out loud yet. “That I’m in love with you.”

There is a slow warmth spreading through Michael’s chest, like hundreds of candles being lit inside of him, and he can’t take his eyes off the boy lying across from him. He never thought there was a chance this would ever happen to him, and still, even after weeks of Calum telling him this, he still can’t quite wrap his head around it. He doesn’t think he ever will. Michael keeps watching as Calum’s breathing gets more even and the hand on his cheek stops moving. It’s rare to get moments like this, where he can stare as much as he wants without it being weird – or, well. It probably is weird. This whole situation is kind of weird, to be honest, but Michael can’t bring himself to mind. He can’t remember the last time he smiled so often for no reason, just because. Calum loves him.

Michael lets himself close his eyes, lets the tipsiness lull him to sleep, and he finds he doesn’t care as much as he thought he would, about the whole coming out thing. If Calum is right and people know, then so be it. It’s fine. As long as he gets to fall asleep like this, wrapped up with his favourite boy right next to him, he’ll be alright.

****

Ashton tweets something a few days later, while Michael and Calum are watching TV together, some random sitcom in a language neither of them understand – although Calum claimed he totally knew what they were saying and pretended to translate the dialogue for the first twenty minutes.

“I swear to God, they were talking about cabbages just then! I swear!”

“Yeah, yeah, hush now.”

Calum cackles and throws himself across Michael’s lap, half of his body hanging off the couch, and after a while of stroking his hair Michael’s phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Luke. ‘Check your twitter ;)’ is all it says. He frowns, but does as he’s told, and that’s when he sees it.

‘ _YOU ARE LARGER THAN LIFE! YOU are individuals, YOU can be loud and proud of who you are and what you are_ ’

That fucker.

“What’s so funny?” Calum asks, his cheek smushed against the cushions so he can look up at him. Michael leans down on an impulse and presses a kiss to his cheek just to see him break into a smile.

“Your face,” he says, and gets a laugh and a shove in return. Once Calum has turned his attention back to the TV, Michael sends Ashton a text, still grinning.

‘ _You’re a dork <3<3<3_’

****

Michael finds himself backstage in a bathroom again about two months later. They’re about to play a show to thousands of people, and usually this would be the time to pick himself apart.

It’s gotten easier lately; sometimes it’s even fun to see people’s reactions to the way he’s carrying himself these days, even though there have been a lot more negative comments. It got especially crazy after an interview for Rock Sound magazine in which Michael made a tiny little comment about how he doesn’t care much for masculinity, which of course got blown way out of proportion. Ashton forbid him to go on twitter for three days and wouldn’t even let the other boys talk to him about it. (It took Calum two hours until he caved and let Michael use his phone. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.) But it’s all good. It was probably for the best, because like Luke said, it might be a good thing to warm people up to it first. And honestly, Michael doesn’t care as much as he would have six months ago. It’s kind of out there now. There isn’t much he can do about it.

Michael is wearing minimal make up, a tiny bit of eyeliner and mascara because it makes his eyes look fucking amazing – the fact that it makes Calum all flustered is pretty awesome, too. It’s hard to believe Michael will ever get tired of any of this. But the best part is Calum’s face whenever he sees Michael in full on make-up, like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, every single time. Michael grins at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of knowing Calum loves him back, either.

There’s a sudden knock on the door and then Luke shouts, “What on earth is taking you so long in there?”

“Fuck off! Can’t a rockstar get his daily brooding time?” Michael yells back and gets a laugh in return. He knows Luke is just looking out for him.

They have ten minutes until they have to go onstage, so Michael washes his hands one last time for good luck and unlocks the door.

“Finally, the diva has decided to grace us all with his presence,” Calum says when he leaves the bathroom, but it’s said with so much fondness that all bite is lost. “You look great, Mikey.”

Michael leans over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

Calum just smiles wider. It’s easy to ignore the gagging noises and Ashton’s high pitched “ewww” when it feels like the sun is going up because Calum is smiling at him.

Michael figures he’s gonna be asked about the whole thing in the next interview, and if not he’ll probably blurt it out at some point, but it doesn’t bother him. His skin hasn’t felt bruised for a while now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand that is it!!! Finally!!! I spent the last three months working on this and revisiting and rewriting and giving up and picking it up again... I'm so relieved it's finally out there!  
> Comments and feedback are much appreciated!  
> Find me [on tumblr](http://technicallysam.tumblr.com/) to say hi!
> 
> If you're interested in watching the interwiev with Laura Jane Grace (which I highly recommend, no matter if you're familiar with this topic or not), you can find it [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnZppZ6CBSg&index=1&list=PLWPRuBale_obZ9dM2Wf7ak3Wk_a9shHGM)


End file.
